Archive of Our Own ^beta

He wakes up with his head on Bruce’s chest, his fingers idly playing with the older man’s dark hair and breathing into the sweat/gunpowder/man scent he always carries with him. One of Bruce’s thick, calloused fingers is running up and down his back, from his shoulder blades to the base of his spine in slow repetition, forcing his skin to warm and his muscles to relax under such gentle ministration.

He opens his eyes finally, trying to hide his face onto Bruce’s right side in which, Dick might say, looks like him snuggling, but he would be mistaken, because he has never snuggled in his life. His mother did not believe in the practice and by the time his father remembered he was around…

He sighs.

“Are you feeling any better?” Bruce asks in a soft whisper, the smile completely clear on his voice.

Tim frowns.

“Was I sick?” he asks back, rising his eyes to meet Bruce’s dilated ones.

He blinks.

“You had a Contagion relapse,” the man replies softly. “I thought we had lost you for a while.”

Tim doesn’t remember being sick again, and he could pinpoint the Contagion symptoms by now.

In fact, the last thing he remembers is that Bruce reported he and Damian were going after Dr. Crane and…

… Oh.

He smiles.

“I feel much better,” he whispers finally. “You kept me warm all this time.”

“Alfred reasoned that you already had the cure in your system, it was only a matter of keeping you warm to make the antibodies fight the disease off,” Bruce says, a frown on his face. “I’m glad it worked.”

Tim finally allows himself to snuggle onto Bruce’s side, feeling secure in the knowledge that Alfred must he handling Damian and most likely Dick is helping him.

To think that his health is one of Bruce’s biggest fears is a humbling thought.

‘I love you,’ he wants to say. ‘You are one of the best things to ever happen to me, despite what everyone says.’

“I’m sleepy,” he says instead, knowing the rest will be good for both of them.

“Try to sleep some more then,” Bruce replies gently, his nose burying itself on Tim’s dark hair, breathing into it. “I’ll be here when you wake up, I promise.”

Tim closes his eyes again, his fingers reaching for Bruce’s other hand and entwining them with his. Most likely, by the time he wakes, Bruce will be back to normal, but he won’t move from his spot.

He promised, and while the rest of the family might be quick to forget, Bruce has never, ever, broken a promise.

He lets himself fall asleep to the soft lull of Bruce’s even breathing.