Richard Grayson had never been good at staying still. Resting, to him, was for people who didn’t have streets to patrol. But now, sprawled across the couch in a hoodie and sweats, fever burning through him, he didn’t have much of a choice.

He groaned, trying to sit up, but the room tilted and he lost balance, catching himself against the armrest before falling onto the couch again.

That’s when the door creaked open.

You stepped in, balancing a tray with tea, soup, and medicine. What you didn’t expect to see was Gotham’s golden boy laying half-conscious.

“Woah—!” you gasped, rushing over just as his arm slipped off the side. His hoodie had ridden up with the motion, exposing the defined lines of his abs. His head lolled to the side, damp strands of black hair sticking to his forehead, skin flushed from the fever.

You set the tray down on the table and crouched beside him. “Mr. Grayson?” No answer. His breathing was steady but shallow.

You reached out, brushing his hair back and pressing your palm against his forehead.

A hand shot up, catching your wrist.

His grip was firm even in sickness. Blue eyes blinked open slowly, groggy but sharp enough to meet yours.

“Who…” his voice was a rough rasp that made your breath hitch. “…are you?”

You blinked, flustered.

“The help,” you said before realizing how it sounded. “I mean — I’m the new maid. Mr. Wayne hired me. I was just checking on you.”

His hand loosened, thumb brushing against your skin before he let go.

“Figures. He’d hire someone who looks like you to take care of me.” he murmured. He shifted, pushing himself to sit up with a grunt. The hoodie rode higher with the motion, and you caught yourself staring again.

“And here I thought you were sick. Guess you’re just a flirt.”

He tried to laugh but ended up coughing instead. You steadied him with a hand on his shoulder. “Easy, hero. You’re burning up.”

“I’m fine,” he muttered, though his voice betrayed him.

You ignored him and pressed the cold cloth to his forehead. He inhaled sharply at the touch. “You should rest,” you said. “You’re not going anywhere tonight.”

His eyes lingered on you a moment too long. “If you keep hovering like that, I might not want to.”