Disclaimer: I own nothing but my ideas. None of the stuff mentioned in my story (Swanson, Campbell's, Paula Dean, etc.) are simply mentioned in my story.
AN: Ok, this is supposed to be a funnyish kind of fic. I randomly got the idea that, hey, Batman is always at risk and stuff, so why don't a make him have something that he can't fight-the flu. So yea. R&R. Enjoy!
BTW, it's in Robin's POV…in case you didn't know.
Oh! And before I forget, Wally knows Dick's ID…he probably will in most of my stories…but yea, ANYWAY…
The whole situation was actually quite funny. The Dark Knight-the guy who was constantly at risk, who fought crime everyday, who never had a moment to rest-was now stuck in bed with the flu. Quite humorous.
"Master Bruce, you must rest to get better." Alfred told him as I leaned against the hall wall, smirking.
"Alfred…I-I will b-be," He coughed, "Fine!"
I chuckled softly and received looks from both of the older men. "Master Richard, please alert the League that Master Bruce is ill and cannot go to work today."
"Sure thing, Alfred." I smirked again and laughed.
As I left the room, I heard Bruce try to convince Alfred again: "Alfred, I swear, I'm," Sneeze, "Fine!"
"Yes, of course, Master Bruce, just lie back down…"
I strolled down the staircase as the two went back and forth. I went into the BatCave and started messing around with different monitors, before calling the WatchTower. The Flash's face came on screen. "Hey, Robin. Where's Bats?" He smiled.
I beamed back at him, "He has the flu."
Flash had a dumbfounded look, "He's…sick? Not injured? Not a mission? Just…sick?" He started laughing, "I can imagine he won't be enjoying that."
"Oh, believe me, he isn't." I chuckled. "Are you coming in for him, Robin?" He asked, still amused.
"Nope," I shook my head, "I'm here to make sure he doesn't work."
He laughed again, "Good luck with that." He signed off.
"I'm gonna need it." I murmured, as I switched off the monitors. I left the Cave and was on my way back to Bruce's room when I heard, "Master Bruce, please, the Doctors said, and I agree, that you must rest if you are going to get better." Alfred was trying to get Bruce to cooperate.
"Alfred, I told you, I am," Sneeze, cough, cough-"Fine!"
"Hey Alfred. I'll take it from here." I consoled our Butler.
"Thank you, Master Richard…and good luck."
"Thanks, Alfred." I grinned at the phrase I had now received twice in regards to Bruce's sick status. Bruce was standing in front of the kitchen in his boxers and a Batman tee. Oh, how that shirt made me laugh. His hair was a mess and his face was covered in stubble. He was only wearing one slipper and he was really pale, with bags under his eyes.
"Don't you try to talk me into sleeping all day too."
"Nah…I'm just going to remind you of that time after we were in Mexico-"
"-and I drank that bad water-"
"-and I was sick all week-"
"Yes, yes I remember."
"-and I was throwing up the whole time. You wouldn't let me move for two weeks."
Bruce sighed. Then, without another word, he turned and shuffled back to his room. I cackled and skipped up next to him, "Don't worry, Bruce! The League knows-Barry was really amused, and Wayne Corp knows, so you don't need to worry about work…all you need to do is rest."
"Yea, yea." He mumbled as he crawled into bed, and pulled up the covers.
"Don't worry!" I insisted, "I'll take care of everything!"
"Mmhmm…" Bruce was snoring. I left the room.
"Nicely done, Master Richard."
"Thanks, Alfred," I paused before going down the stairs, "Hey…do we have any good soup recipes?"
**Insert Breakline Here**
In front of me was Swanson soup broth, chicken, carrots, potatoes, and lots of other veggies. Along with Alfred's famous soup recipe and a seriously dangerous looking knife on top of a cutting board, plus a large Crockpot waiting for all of these ingredients to come together in a delicious bowl of awesome. Only problem was, I wasn't exactly sure what I was doing. But, I refused to ask Alfred for help.
Homemade Chicken Soup-the first step to recovery from any illness.
Since, I didn't know where to begin, I started with the chicken-since it was in the name of the dish. I brandished the knife and carefully moved it over the chicken and sliced it in choppy, uneven strokes. After I was satisfied with the amount I had butchered and moved it away from the bowl, I moved on to the veggies. Once they were all chopped up, I mixed them up with the chicken and it kind of looked like a salad. I frowned at the broth, pot, and my chicken/veggie concoction. What to do next…
"No, Alfred! I have to finish this myself!"
"Could you at least read the recipe?"
"…I'll consider it."
Alfred sighed, "Alright then…teenagers. So stubborn."
I made sure he went back upstairs before sneaking a glance at the recipe.
Set to 360 degrees.
I plugged in the Crockpot and set it to 360 degrees. Once it set, I poured the broth in. I glanced again.
When the water is boiling, pour in the chicken. Let boil for 15 minutes.
Hang on. Only the chicken? Dang it. So, while I was waiting for the water to boil, I picked all of the chicken out of my concoction. Well, most of the chicken out of it. When it was ready, I dumped the chicken in. Then I had a 15 minute block of time before I had to finish the soup, so I went to the living room, plopped onto the couch, and flipped on the TV. The news was on, and it was a story on Batman. So, I sat back and watched, intrigued by what the press would say about him.
"The Justice League all showed up for the monthly Press Conference. With the exception of Batman. Why is this, you ask? Is Batman leaving the League?" I laughed loudly at this comment. "When asked, The Flash had this to say:"
The screen cut to Flash, who had an extremely amused look on his face, "Well, you see, Anna-it is Anna, right?" She blushed and nodded rapidly, "Well, Anna, Batman is, as a matter of fact," Dramatic pause-I could tell he was enjoying this-"Busy today. Maybe for a few days. Even super heroes need a day off, sometimes." He smirked.
"Is his sidekick Robin available for comment?" I grimaced at the word 'sidekick'. Ugh.
"Nope! Sorry, Anna." He sped off.
I was laughing at Anna's face when the smoke alarm went off. "Crap!" I shot up and ran to the kitchen and saw smoke spewing from…a glove I cleverly left on the burner. "Crap! Crap crap crap crap crap!" I grabbed the handy-dandy fire extinguisher (thank you, Alfred!) and I put out the fire.
"Alfred! Everything is under control!" He looked around and saw the huge mess I made: the scrapes of food spattered around, the singed glove, and the foam extinguisher left behind, "Make sure Bruce stays in bed!" I instructed. A pause.
"There is some instant Campbell's soup in the pantry, Master Richard." He said as he strolled out of the room and back up to Bruce's.
Instant Campbell's Chicken Soup-the first step to recovery from an illness.
I cleaned up my homemade catastrophe as quickly as possible. Then I grabbed the Campbell's instant soup Alfred talked about. Alfred is a Saint. A Lifesaver. He's amazing. I quickly followed the instructions on the soup-I learned my lesson on not reading the instructions last time. Once it was done, I poured it into a bowl, grabbed a bottle of juice, and made my way back up to Bruce's room.
When I got there, I used my amazing Robinified observation skills, and sis just that-observed. Bruce was sprawled across his bed with sheets tangled all around him, most of the pillows were on the floor. He was lying on his stomach and snoring like a cow. The kind of snore I can normally hear through my walls at night.
"Hey, Bruce! I have lunch for you!"
He stirred, "Lhuhwa?"
"Yea, lunch! It's hom-uh…soup!" I waited for him to sit up and then I set the juice and soup down on his bedside table.
"Soup? Did you make it?" He asked as he picked it up and blew on it.
"Uh…kinda." I smirked. He finished it in 5 minutes flat. "Don't forget the juice!" I shoved it at him.
"Did you make this?"
"No. Tropicana did." I laughed at him.
"It's really good." He said appreciatively as he slurped it down to the last drop.
"I know right? Tropicana knows what they are doing," I sat down on the edge of his bed, "How are you feeling now?" He still looked exhausted, but there was a little bit of color in his face now.
"Tiiredd." He moaned.
I laughed, "Then go back to sleep, but don't worry I'll be back." I thought about what else I could do to make Bruce feel better as I left his room. I ended up back in the kitchen. I went to the fridge to grab some Dr. Pepper, when I noticed a Father's Day card I made for Bruce when I was at least seven. Aha!
Homemade Get-Well-Soon card- The second step to recovery from any illness.
**Insert Breakline Here**
In front of me were glue, scissors, construction paper, and markers. Now, this was something that would be easier for me to do. I know that this may be a little kiddish…but when has that stopped me before? Besides, if it makes Bruce feel better, it's totally worth it. So, I started by cutting out the letter ! in blue paper and pasted them on the front of a red piece of paper. Then, I grabbed some yellow paper and expertly sketched out a bat in black-which I thought was rather clever on my part. The door bell rang after I had finished coloring in the bat.
I quickly rushed to the door, abandoning my project on the floor. I opened the door and was welcomed by fuzzy, red hair and a bright, freckled face. "Wally? What are you doing here?" I asked as he rushed in.
"Uncle Barry told me Batman was sick and that you were staying with him, so I got everyone to make cards! Including Uncle Barry and me, of course!"
He was still racing around when Alfred walked in. "Master Richard, Master Wallace, please keep your voices down."
Wally slowed, "Sorry, Alfred…and you can call me Wally. I just wanted to drop these cards off." He grinned sheepishly.
"I'll bring them to him, Wally." I told him as I took the cards. I caught a glimpse of M'ganns' card-covered in bubbly letters and flowers, and Flash's card-covered in lightning bolts.
"Master Wallace…" Alfred started, ignoring Wally's preference for…well 'Wally', "There are some fresh cookies in the kitchen. Take some back with you for the team." Wally beamed and momentarily ignored the 'Wallace'.
"Thanks, Alfred!" He sped into the kitchen and was back in moments, "I'll see you later, Rob! Thanks again, Alfred. I really app-"While Wally was running off, he wasn't paying attention to where he was going and he ran right over my not-quite dry card. The glue stuck to his shoes and he yanked the paper off in reflex…and it ripped in half.
Computer Generated Get-Well-Soon card- the second step to recovery from any illness.
Wally left quickly after ruining my project-and it had been coming along so nicely-mumbling apologies the whole time. After I cleaned the mess of glue and paper (with Alfred's help) I was sitting in front of my laptop and was re-creating the very card Wally had just destroyed. Thankfully, my drawing of the bat had only been a little wrinkled, so I could salvage it. When I was done, I printed out the card and grabbed the ones made by the team.
I headed upstairs. Bruce was still snoring loudly and was still tangled up in his sheets with only one pillow on the bed, but he defiantly had some color in his face now.
"Wake up, Bruce! Present time!"
He opened his eyes, but then squinted against the light coming through the window, "Prehawa?"
"Yea! Presents!" He sat up and yawned largely, "The team made you Get Well Soon cards! So did I, but KF ruined it, so I made another one on the computer."
He accepted them with a grunt of thanks. He opened Flash's and snorted.
"What?" I asked as I moved closer. He turned the card toward me, and I read it aloud: "Dear Bats, Don't die, ok? If you die, no one will be able to control these kids. Love, Barry" I cackled, "Wow."
So, for the next 15 minutes, the two of us read all of the cards, laughing at the funny ones, smiling at the sweet ones.
"I think you're getting better, Bruce." I observed after we finished Superboy's- a very standard card with Get Well Soon written in blue with an obviously M'gann added smiley face.
"Yea," He agreed, "These have cheered me up…this and that soup." He coughed.
"Ok, more sleeping now."
"Ok." He mumbled as he burrowed back under his bed sheets. In minutes he was snoring once again. I started wondering what else I could do to make Bruce feel better. I was back in the living room and I saw that I had left the TV on. I sat on the couch and started flipping through channels. I stopped on Paula Dean's cooking show.
She smiled hugely at the camera, "Okay, y'all, this is the perfect dish for someone sick in bed." I settled against the cushions and watched. "My homemade pot pie will cure anything!" She removed it from the oven, "Oh, goodness, y'all, this smells fantastic! I made this for my Great Uncle Bill when he had swine flu and, let me tell you," She showed her unnaturally sparkly teeth, "He was dancing again in no time! My cousins also made him cards, and my Great Aunt Judy got him some flowers." I turned off the TV.
Self-arranged Flowers-the third step to recovery from any illness.
**Insert Breakline Here**
In front of me were violets, roses, daises, and all kinds of other flowers. Yup. I was in Alfred's garden, getting ready to make Bruce a bouquet. So third grade. But, hey, it was fun!
Alfred walked outside, "Master Richard…are you sure you don't just want to go out and buy some flowers?"
"No, Alfred! This time, I'm going to do it by myself and I will succeed! Besides, it wouldn't be the same." I started yanking the flowers out, and I noticed that I also pulled out the roots-even a few worms.
He sighed, "Very well. Be careful, Master Richard. And use these scissors…you don't want to pull out anymore roots." He went back inside after he handed me the scissors.
I snipped at all the flowers I wanted. Mainly daisies; I really like daisies. You could see every single petal and I liked that. I also liked the fact that you could clearly see if there was a bee on it or not. Not that I didn't like bees; I know that if I don't bother them, they won't bother me, but I really didn't want to get stung today.
In the end, I had about 20 flowers. I was pretty satisfied with what I had, too, so I turned to go back inside to find the perfect vase. I was almost to the back door when I felt a stinging pain shoot up my arm. I cried out (much to my embarrassment), dropped the flowers, and grabbed my hand. Dang it! A bee sting. I quickly squeezed out the stinger.
I stared down at the flowers I dropped. Most of the petals had fallen off and a couple had broken stems from where I had accidentally stepped on them.
Store bought flowers-the third step to recovery from any illness.
"Alfred, I'm going to Publix." I grumbled at my grandfatherly figure. I didn't want to destroy any more of his flowers, so I decided that I would destroy Publix's.
He chuckled softly, "There are Band-aids in the kitchen and money on the counter."
"Thanks, Alfred." I said, gratefully as I headed toward the kitchen. Once there, I started rummaging through the drawers until I found what I wanted-Neosporin and a Superman band aid. I quickly applied the two, grabbed the cash, and left quickly.
Since I'm only 13, I can't legally drive (I obviously can drive, I mean, I'm Robin). So, I had to ride a bike to the grocery store. As I made my journey there, I swear, I must have hit every single pot hole. Honestly, Gotham should really fix that. Still, I made it in 20 minutes. After I secured my bike into the bike rack, I strolled into Publix and into the flower department.
I examined the different arrangements, and finally decided on the one with roses, violets, and daises in it, like the arrangement I was going to make…but oh well. I grabbed them and went up to the checkout counter to buy them.
"Is this all you're buying, sir?" Asked the checkout lady whose name tag declared her 'Susan'.
"Yea, that's it."
"Are they for a special someone?" She asked with a knowing gleam in her eye. She looked like she was maybe in her late 30's, with bright red lipstick and blue eye shadow. She had laugh lines around, too, so I figured she was nice enough.
I grinned, "You could say that."
She smiled at me, "Ok, sir, that will be," She hit some buttons, "9.99." Yea, she's nice enough.
I handed her a ten, "How come you don't just say $10? It's basically the same thing." I asked, curiously.
She shrugged and grinned, "I've always wondered that, myself," She handed me the bouquet, "Have a nice day, sir."
I grinned again, "You, too." I went back outside and stuck the flowers in the front basket and prayed they would stay there throughout the ride home.
I had to leave quickly, because it was getting late. I got home in 30 minutes (it was uphill). When I walked through the door, it was 6:25.
"Those are very nice looking, Master Richard." Alfred told me as I hurried in.
"Thanks! Do you think he will like them?"
I ran to the kitchen first and grabbed a vase. I quickly poured water into it and stuck the flowers in. Then, I rushed up to his room. Once again, Bruce's snores echoed down the hall before I had even reached his room.
"Bruce…Bruce, wake up! I have a surprise for you!" He continued to snore. "Bruce?" Still snoring. I tried something else. "…Dad?"
He stirred, "Huh dawha?"
"Yup! I called you Dad. And I have a surprise for you!" I grinned at his dumbfounded expression. "Ta-da!" I gave him the flowers.
I beamed, "It was no trouble at all!" I smiled, hiding my band aided hand.
He set the flowers on his bedside table, "You know what? This sick day hasn't been so bad…thanks to you."
I laughed, "Yea! Maybe you'll even have another one tomorrow!"
He snorted, "Yea. That's gonna happen," He mumbled sarcastically. He pulled the covers up, "Good night, son." He murmured as I turned off the light and started to leave.
TA DA! Hope you enjoyed this, because I did! Please, review and stuff!
P.S. I do not recommend mixing Mr. Pibb and Lemonade. It may sound good, but it's not… -.-
Rainbow cake is amazing.