etrayalogs | ( closed ) bred, born, and raised to kick your ass

( wow, it's almost as if this hasn't happened with the woman bruce has been engaged to for - long enough back home, numerous times. damian gets the irony immediately, he just chooses not to comment on it.

and instead gives bruce a look very similar to the one he'd thrown his way: annoyed, irritated, getting just that much closer to being done with his nonsense. )

You do realize the companion robots have been carrying antibiotic ointments developed specifically to treat these kinds of scratches, yes? And have been insisting on treating anyone who may have been scratched?

( damian trusts them about as far as he can throw them, but when one starts experiencing symptoms that they had already described. . . well. )

And you'd be so willing to trust them, would you?

( it's said with a huff, bruce looking down to the first-aid kit again as he goes about finding the antiseptic in there along with some bandages. funny how he's needing those again. just for scratches instead of a stab wound this time. )

I trust nothing unless given adequate reason to.

( a bruce wayne with a fever high enough damian can feel it, and who's falling over himself, is enough of a reason to at least investigate what they're offering. his father's going to hurt himself, if he keeps this up. damian sighs; the kind of exhausted, offput sound one would have likely anticipated coming more from bruce than damian, and reaches for the first-aid kit. )

Sit down. If you give yourself a concussion falling onto your face I'll call in Goliath to ensure you don't have brain damage, and you're not going to like that.

( why is ~~his~~ this kid so sassy? where on earth does he get it from?

he knows he should. knows that damian's logic is sound, but. bruce is as stubborn as they come— willing to push himself until his body physically gives out on him and, even then, he'd find a way to keep going until passing out. granted, he's not looking to go to that extreme here, so he heaves a sigh and grabs for the sports drink he'd been brought. )

I need to lie down.

( preferably in his bed and not on the bathroom floor. )

Even better.

( easier than knocking him out and dragging him across the floor, which. damian would have done, if necessary. but his father is a little difficult to drag, given he's at least twice damian's size.

since he's opted to cooperate, damian waits until bruce has picked up his drink, then - shoves himself under bruce's arm, wrapping it around his shoulders so he can assist in keeping him steady on the way to the bed. )

( the assistance is a little unexpected and it shows in the way he looks down to damian. he's about to say something — about to shrug off the help, but. refrains from doing so. partly because of how his head currently is and partly because he's not in the mood to argue right now. if he can just lay down... maybe sleep this off...

steps are slow and steady as they make their way to the room which he's "taken" for himself. the room that seems to be for bruce wayne within the manor. the suit is there, set aside, along with a duffel bag that's left on the floor. not much else is there that's his, what with the manor having been made from the bots. that thought alone is still... strange... to him.

the moment he reaches the bed, he gently presses a hand down to it, capped sports drink in the other, and lets his eyes fall shut. his skin remains flushed. sweat beginning to build around his temples and the nape of his neck and he's certainly looked better. )

I'm fine.

( this isn't the first, nor will it be the last time damian has carried batman on his shoulders. or pulled him along, at least. damian might be small but he's strong, and this is nothing - especially given bruce is managing not to fall onto his face and is holding up most of his weight. he drops down onto the bed, and damian slowly releases his hold. watches bruce's eyes fall shut, and notices the sweat that signals the fever's more worrisome than originally thought. he'll go chase down one of the first-aid-carrying companion bots as soon as he's gotten bruce completely down. )

Father, ( voice even, dry, because, well, ) you said, and I quote, "I died a long time ago". You haven't been fine in years. You'll get better and worse with age.

( it makes sense to damian which is all that really matters. )

Lay down. I'll find the antibiotics.

( it takes him a moment to properly lay himself down on the bed. for his head to gently hit the pillow and his muscles to slowly release the tension they'd been carrying the walk over, but. once he does, he feels as if he might drift off right then and there. as if his body craves it in a way he hasn't felt for some time.

eyes fall shut, strands of hair falling in front of his face some. he hears damian's words and they cause him to slowly open his eyes again. fighting against the call of sleep. )

I need to know what this is. ( words soft. lazy. but still somehow firm in a very bruce way. ) Create a vaccine in case this becomes a habitual problem here.

I'll get a blood sample first.

( if he rolled his eyes any harder they'd fall right out of his face. luckily for both of them, it's not actually physically possible, even if one almost wonders with how far damian pushes it. bruce is down, so damian turns around on his heels and heads out. considers calling in drake or todd to play babysitter, but figures - he doubts they've introduced themselves yet, there's no need to up the dramatics at play here.

and if bruce manages to roll himself out of bed, he's not going very far. if he cracks his head open on the ground, that's his fault.

it doesn't take long to don the robin uniform and let himself out of the manor. the travel time from the manor to the hospital grounds is less lengthy, considering damian first calls for goliath's help, and the dragon bat's flight and larger stature is very useful in getting him places quickly. which means there's no time at all before damian's returning - first with a stop to the cave to drop off a sample of the antibiotics and gather a needle and vacutainer. damian chooses to let himself back into the manor using the inner hidden doorways instead of the outer ones, so bruce doesn't receive a window visitor, but instead, one who walks through the door like a normal person.

but a normal person likely wouldn't stop beside someone trying to rest in bed and immediately reach for the needle they have in hand, carefully aiming for a vein to do as he'd promised. )

( he drifts off while damian's out. loses track of time and how long it's been since he's fallen into bed. he needs the rest. he knows his body does to fight off whatever infection has managed to infiltrate his system. as much as he hates admitting defeat, he can't help but sink into sleep. for however long that might be.

the sensation of the needle there at his arm wakes him, but not with a start. he's unable to, given the fever and how tired he feels. with the gentle fluttering of blue eyes, his head lolls there on the pillow and he stares to damian through half-lidded eyes. the fever seems to be worse, given how much more flushed his skin appears against the black clothing that's damp from sweat. )

How long were you gone?

( how long has he been out? )

Fourty-seven minutes.

( bruce isn't doing well at all. the blood comes first, given he knows well how his father will complain later if damian doesn't get it. damian would do the same, had he been in bruce's position. once the vacutainer is filled, he pulls the needle out. raises the tube, to show bruce that damian has done as he had asked before he's setting it down beside the bed and instead grabbing onto the small tube of antibiotic cream to open it up and start spreading it over the scratches on his arm.

they need alfred. bruce is clearly too young to be trusted on his own. )

( so he's been out for at most, forty-seven minutes.

he feels some sort of way with damian having gone out as he did. the kid is very much capable of handling himself in a way others his age aren't, but. there's still something about the thought of something happening to him — of getting into a situation that is more than he could anticipate that makes bruce feel... some sort of way. a though he can't really attach to very much, given the fact that his head is so heavy right now.

a slow roll of his head, he watches as damian applies the cream to his wound. quiet. tired. )

Thank you.

I told you, you're not alone.

( not here, not while damian is around to nag him. the nagging itself isn't new, even if the nature of it isn't quite what damian's used to. he's had to pull bruce together before, has had to drive him home full of holes and bleeding after a rough bout with some of gotham's worst. this part, the making sure he's taken care of after he's reached home, has always been more alfred's job than his. but damian's still here; he's sitting down on the edge of bruce's bed, raising his arm to check and make sure he's covered the entirety of the scratches visible on that one, before he's leaning over to reach for the other arm, too. just in case bruce is being particularly stupid and ignoring other injuries for ones he considers worse. )

Next time, I'll call in someone with a rougher touch than mine.

( so his father learns his lesson. )

( his other arm remains fine, thankfully. he's had worse, but. this is still something he doesn't normally deal with and to be confined to a bed in an attempt to try and sleep it all off... it's frustrating. but he knows he needs to. )

You don't have to stay.

( words soft, eyes half-lidded as he stares to damian there on the edge of the bed. )

I'm not going to try and sneak out if that's what you're worried about.

As soon as you think you're capable of getting yourself back upright, you'll be out of bed and back in your suit.

( it's not a question, but a statement. damian won't go searching any further for wounds, and instead drops the tube of cream down onto the nightstand. reaches for the vacutainer and holds it up as he gets himself back up to his feet. )

I am going to put this in the refrigerator, then return. Do not get up.

( the look he gives this... child of his... )

You're just going to sit here until I'm marginally better than I currently am?

Would you prefer Goliath's company?

( don't think he won't sick his best pal on you, bruce. )

Can he even fit in here?

( that's sarcasm. )

He's a bed hog.

( a nonanswer, because he knows that done. at least bruce is managing sarcasm. damian turns around on his heels, and heads towards the door.

leaves for a few minutes to put the blood sample in the fridge as he'd promised. when he returns to the room, his cloak has been removed and he's putting it over the back of a chair. the chair which damian then moves to sit down in after. )

( in the time it takes for damian to head to the kitchen, bruce settles there against the bed as comfortably as he can. his fever still runs. his head still feels heavy. his skin's still damp and flushed. it's the waiting game he has to play now. to see if this cream damian had acquired will actually do anything or not.

he's closing his eyes when damian comes back to the room and he refrains long enough to watch him settle there on the chair. )

Didn't bring your book?

( the one he'd had with him on the steps when he first came... home. )

No.

( he has dozens of mental exercises he can go through instead, or several stretches he can move through to keep himself limber. damian has plenty of things to keep him entertained that isn't the book he'd left on the stairs; he hadn't been reading it when bruce had come in, after all.

how flushed bruce is concerns him. if they're lucky, his fever will break and the antibiotics will do their job. if they're unlucky, it might get worse. damian's mouth twists into a frown, eyeing the chair and then bruce himself before he's grabbing onto the bottom of the chair and dragging it closer to the bed. just to ensure he can keep a closer eye on that fever without standing and waking his father up every time he goes to check. )

( maybe he should have brought a damp cloth in with him, but. it's too late to try and get out of bed what with damian watching him like a hawk, and he's not about to ask him to get one. he'll just deal with it. push through. try and work some mind over matter magic while he's laying there in bed. it might work. or he'll pass out and leave it up to his body while he sleeps.

either way, he lazily watches damian pull the chair over to be closer to the bed and hums a little before slowly rolling his head back into the center of the pillow. eyes falling shut. )

If I fall asleep and something happens... wake me. Doesn't matter on my condition.

( damian hums an acknowledgement that he's at least heard bruce, even if he's offering nothing else. if something terrible does happen, damian's more likely to take care of it himself than wake up bruce, but he also trusts bruce to wake up if it gets loud enough damian does end up needing help.

his own eyes fall shut after a while; damian had been napping before, but it wasn't a particularly satisfying nap - especially given how soon it ended. after several minutes, he startles himself awake--but only long enough to reach out and press the back of his hand against bruce's forehead. checking his fever, then leaning forward to rest his arms on the edge of the mattress. his face scrunches up as he rests his cheek against folded arms, and damian goes back to sleep.

a little more soundly than last time, considering he doesn't wake up quickly from this nap.

instead, he falls asleep deep enough to begin dreaming.

damian dreams in green; a green bruce may not recognize, but may pick up from damian what it is: the lazarus pit, a pool of eternal life. one that his grandfather has been keeping to himself for hundreds of years. it begins as a swirl of colors: green intermingling with red, and a never-ending bleak darkness.

then it shifts into something softer. damian's outside wayne manor, petting a large black great dane. his name is titus, a gift from his father during a troubling time of his childhood. he scritches behind titus' ears, then reaches for a nearby ball, throwing it into the distance with a soft smile reserved for when he knows no one is watching. his father stands in the distance, a similar smile on his lips, with alfred lingering behind him. )

( he's not sure where he is. if this is a dream of sorts, or he's been transplanted into some other world. it's hard to tell when he's not exactly accustomed to this sort of... thing in the first place.

but he finds himself outside wayne manor. it's similar to the one he'd fallen asleep in — the one the bots had put together, but he gets the feeling it's also different at the same time. he stands there, a little ways from it, dressed in a suit and a long coat. no greasepaint smeared across his eyes and hair not looking a tousled mess as it often does when the cowl's come off.

he's very much bruce wayne here. or attempting to wear the mask of him.

it takes him a moment to spot damian with the dog — to see the way he gently smiles to himself as he plays with the great dane. he keeps quiet. watches. notices a man a distance away accompanied with another man and he stares to them both. he knows. or at least... he feels like he does.

after a moment, when he realizes the ball and the dog come towards him, he leans down. picks it up. looks to it. tries to see if it's real and if he's actually here... wherever this is. when he catches sight of damian, he looks up to him. still holding the ball. )

( titus takes off towards bruce, and damian's running after him. by the time he reaches bruce, he - looks at least a couple years younger. his hair's grown out a little less, there's an empty area where a cuspid had been before it'd been knocked out. his head tips up, green eyes focusing on bruce's, and there's - something older behind his eyes. damian has never been a child, has always been older than his years, and it shows in the focus behind those eyes.

his fingers, hidden behind the long sleeves of his turtle neck, are stained red up to the second knuckle. he keeps them under sleeves rather than reaching up for bruce. he's starting to recognize what this is, where they are, and it twists his mouth into a sour scowl.

takes several more moments, before he offers a steady, )

Are you going to throw it? Titus doesn't like to be kept waiting.

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