So this was meant to be a one shot, but I got a great suggestion to write a chapter about Tim being sick this time. So here it is.

Alfred's POV

"I promise I'm not sick, Alfred! Just let me- Whoa... since when did you have four arms?" Master Timothy says as I attempt to block him from leaving his bed, which is harder than I anticipated.

"I can assure you I only have two arms, young sir. You're just a little delirious from the fever, which is precisely why you should stay in bed."

He looks up at me with a face of confusion before transitioning it to one of concentration.

"Oh, you're right. You only have two arms..."

"That is correct. Now why don't you lie down, that's it," I say as he starts to ease back into his bed, "and I will go and get you what you need."

"You're the best, Alfred," he smiles up at me.

"I try, young sir. I shall be right back."

Dick's POV

"How's he doing, Alfred?" I ask as he returns to the kitchen.

"He sounds quite nasally and he's a bit delirious due to the fever at the moment, but hopefully once he's had some medication, he'll be feeling a little better," he says as he looks into the medicine cabinet.

"Delirious?"

"He asked about when I had gained two extra arms while refusing to lie in his bed. I eventually got him to settle down, but I can only hope he's still there."

"Sounds like a struggle, I'd be happy to help out."

"Oh I'm sure he'll calm down soon enough, but if you wouldn't mind watching him while I arrange this and his breakfast, that would be a great help."

"Of course! I'll go make sure he hasn't wandered anywhere, god forbid he goes into Damian's room in that state."

Tim's POV

"Dick? Why are you-" I let out a sudden sneeze, "-here?" I ask, looking up at him from my bed.

"Just to look after you, Timmy," he replies as he ruffles my hair.

"I don't need looking after, I'm fine. Alfred's just getting his two arms in a twist," I say, waving Dick's hand away.

"Maybe he is, but better safe than sorry, right?" he gives me a smile.

I turn my head away and cross my arms, "Why does no one believe me when I tell them I'm not sick."

"Well you did tell Alfred he had four arms..."

I don't reply, continuing to look away.

"Hey, what's that?" he asks as he grabs my arm.

"What's what? Is there something there?" I start to panic.

"Is that? A fourth arm! Quickly, we have to remove it!" Dick yells as he starts to tickle my side. I can't help but laugh, I try to roll away, but Dick's hands follow me wherever I go.

"Stop!" I beg, now crying from laughter.

"Okay, okay. I think it's gone," he replies, as we both pant for air.

After we rest for a brief moment, Dick gently lifts me back to the correct side of the bed before fixing up the covers we've just made a mess of.

"Now, seriously Timmy. You are sick, whether you want to admit it or not, so why don't you just let me take care of you for a while?"

"Because I can take care of myself," I reply.

"Yeah, I suppose so," he says as he starts to stroke my hair, "but isn't it more fun this way?"

That's quite nice actually, maybe he has a point...

"Oh look, Timmy. Breakfast's here."

"Mmmm so hungry," I Immediately try to sit up, wobbling a little as I do before leaning onto my headboard. Dick adjusts my pillow behind my back while Alfred places a tray on my lap. It's got a bowl of soup on it, and a glass of water with a pill beside it.

I look up at Alfred, "What's the pill for?" I ask. He looks at Dick, who says-

"It's standard issue with all soups these days, makes them tastier."

I look at them both suspiciously, "Really?"

"Totally," Dick replies.

I look at the pill, can't hurt to try I guess. I slowly grab the glass of water, spilling some as my arms shake before Alfred helps steady my grip with his hand.

"Sorry."

"Nothing to worry about, young sir," he assures me as I put the pill in my mouth and swallow it with the water. I give the glass back to Alfred as I gather a spoonful of soup and carefully bring it to my mouth.

"Wooooooow, that's fantastic soup!"

"Told you," Dick replies, before shrugging to Alfred. What's that about? Oh who cares! This soup is great!

When I'm done eating, Alfred removes the tray and I sigh peacefully.

"Why don't you try resting now, Timmy," Dick says as he places his hand on my shoulder and guides me back down to my bed.

"Yeah," I say with a yawn, "sure. That was some good soup..."

I close my eyes.

Damian's POV

"Is he still sleeping?" I ask Grayson as he closes the door to Drake's room behind him.

"He is at the moment, yeah. He should be feeling bit better when he wakes up, hopefully not as delirious at least."

I raise an eyebrow.

"Don't worry about it," he replies, "he'll be fine."

"I wasn't worried."

"Of course not," he gives me a wink.

"-tt-"

"You can check in on him if you like? I've got a few things I could get done."

I stare at Grayson for a few seconds, to give the impression that I'm thinking it over.

"I suppose it is only fair," I eventually reply, "he did attempt to help me when I was unwell."

"You're a good brother, Dami."

Tim's POV

Owww, I don't remember my head hurting this much when I woke up earlier... come to think of it, what did I do earlier? I know Dick was there, with Alfred too. Are they still here?

I open my eyes to see Damian standing beside my bed, looking down at me with his hands behind his back.

"Can I help you?" I ask him.

"You help me? You struggle to do that even when you're fit, Drake. No, I'm here to help you."

"No need, I know how to take care of myself," I reply as I attempt to leave my bed. Damian places a hand in front of me.

"Are you still delirious, Drake? Lie back down, now."

"Delirious? No, I was just going to get-"

"Tell me what you need, and I will retrieve it for you," he says as he cuts me off.

I sit back down on my bed, losing energy and patience for this.

"I need-"

"To stay hydrated, I know. I'll get you a glass of water, are you hungry also?"

"Yeah, and if you can grab some tissues as well that'd be gre-ACHOO!"

"Then I'll bring food and tissues as well, now lie down," he says as he stands there, waiting for me to follow his order. Which I do, too exhausted to argue at this point.

After Damian leaves, a smile creeps up on my face as I have a thought. He notices and gives me a suspicious look when he returns.

"What are you smiling about?" he asks as he holds a glass of water in front of me.

"I taught you this."

"Taught me what?" he replies, scowling at me now.

"How to take care of someone that's sick," I take the glass from him and drink a sip, "and now you're using that to take care of me, maybe even voluntarily?" I ask, but he doesn't answer, still scowling.

I reach over with my hand to try and ruffle his hair, but he gently grabs it and places it back on the glass of water.

"That's really sweet," I say.

There's a knock on the door.

"Oh... you're awake," Jason says as he enters the room.

"Yes he is, and he's your problem now," Damian replies as he shoves the box of tissues he brought into Jason's chest, "I've done my duty."

"Lucky brat, got the easy shift this time," Jason says as Damian leaves, closing the door behind him.

"Hey Jason, can you hand those tissues over here? Oh and can you help me with this bowl of bananas Damian gave me?"

"Bananas?" he asks as he tosses the box of tissues onto my bed, "why bananas?"

"Because that's what I gave him when he was sick probably. In hindsight they're a bad idea, hard to peel when you're feeling weak," I demonstrate by lifting my wobbly hands above the bowl, "but they were the only thing I knew was easy to grab in the kitchen last time."

"So you want me to peel them for you?" he asks as he picks up the bowl.

"That would be helpful, yeah."

"I suppose there are worse things you could ask me to do," he says as he peels one and hands it to me.

"Thanks," I reply. We carry on like that until I'm done eating.

As I lie back down and try to adjust my covers, I turn to look at Jason.

"What do you want?" he asks.

"Uh, can you help- Well... tuck me in, I guess?"

"Really?"

"It's just my arms and-"

"Fine," he cuts me off as he stands up and grabs the sheets, "Just try not to get sick too often, it's annoyingly hard to refuse requests when you look so-"

"Cute?" I ask, trying to hold in laughter.

"I was going to go with pathetic, but you keep dreaming," he says as he finishes tucking me in.

"Thanks."

"Whatever," he replies as he sits back down.

I close my eyes and try to get some rest, but I don't feel tired. So I release one arm from my covers and grab a book from the shelf next to my bed. I open it up and try to pick up where I left off, but find myself squinting as I try to make out the words. I blink a couple times, but it's no use, I close the book and look back to Jason. I must have been looking pathetic again as he asks-

"What now? I swear, I'm not going to give you a goodnight kiss."

"No," I chuckle, "I can't read right now, but I'm not tired enough to sleep. So I was thinking... maybe you could read this to me?"

He folds his arms in response, "I'm not going to read you a bedtime story."

"Please?" I ask, trying especially hard to look pathetic this time, even including a pout.

"Oh no, not you too! Why does everyone do that with their faces now... still, I'm not reading that book," he says as he grabs it from me and takes a look, "it sounds so boring. I've got way better stories to tell than this."

"Then tell me one."

He lets out a deep sigh, "Fine," he says as he puts my book back on its shelf, "I suppose there was this one case that was quite interesting..."

He recalls a story to me about a bank robbery he investigated, where the robber left no trace of their presence at the bank. At first, I keep interrupting him with questions about whether he checked for this and that, I expect him to brush them off and ask me who's telling the story here, but he answers them all and seems to really get into his own story. As he should, I find myself fascinated but asking less questions as it starts to get harder to keep my eyes open. I occasionally ask one to try and regain focus so I can hear the end of the story, but soon enough, I'm fast asleep.

Bruce's POV

Why do people have to get sick on weekdays when I have to go to work? I ask myself in frustration as I walk towards Tim's room. Then by the time I get home, they're usually asleep for the night, without me having been there to comfort them at any point in the day. It makes me worry that they might think I don't care, I would if I was them. But not today, it's not that late, maybe Tim will still be awake.

I quietly open the door to Tim's room and frown as I see him fast asleep. Jason stands up from his chair and walks over to me.

"You taking over now?" he asks.

"I suppose so."

"Sweet, good luck," he says as he brushes past me.

I close the door and walk over to Tim's bed, looking over his peaceful sleeping form. I hope the others took good care of him. I sit down in the chair next to the bed and reach over to brush Tim's hair out of his eyes. Who am I kidding? Of course they did, they care about him as much as I do...

I'm taken out of my thoughts by a tired voice, "Bruce?"

I look at Tim, his eyes now half open as he gives me a great big grin, I return one of my own.

"Hello, Tim. How you feeling?"

"Pretty good right now, all things considered."

"Glad to hear it, have Alfred and your brothers been taking good care of you?"

"The best of care, even Damian, I'm a lucky guy," he says before letting out a sneeze.

I chuckle, "I'd hardly call being sick lucky."

"Well yeah, that part sucks. But I got to spend all day with my family, and now even you're here, I have the whole set."

"Sorry I wasn't around earlier, you know I would be if I could."

"Of course you would," he replies, "you don't have to feel guilty about a silly little thing like that. I know you care, Bruce, and I'm thankful for it every day."

"You have no idea how good that is to hear."

"Well you know what I'd love to hear? You reading that book over there," he says, pointing to his bookshelf.

"This one?" I ask as I pick up the book, "Didn't I recommend this to you?"

"Yup," he says before yawning, "I asked Jason to read it earlier, but he thought it looked boring. What does he know about good books though, right? He can tell a really interesting bank robbing story though..."

I make a mental note to ask Jason about that story later as I remove Tim's bookmark from the book. I start to read from the top of the page and by the time I get through four pages, I look at Tim and notice he's fast asleep again, this time with a smile on his face. I put the book back on the shelf and stand up to tuck him in. When I'm done, I plant a kiss on his forehead.

"Goodnight son, I love you."