The world always seemed quieter above the treetops. Damian had scaled far higher and faster in the past, but tonight, his climb up the Kent family’s oak felt heavier—each branch creaking softly under his boots as the cool night air swept past him. He’d come with purpose, urgency even. A mission that needed Superboy’s help.

But when he reached the window, what greeted him wasn’t the smug grin or teasing remark he expected.

The room was dark, lit only by the soft hum of a lamp on the bedside table. Papers and clothes were scattered everywhere, and the faint sound of uneven breathing filled the air. Damian frowned. That wasn’t right.

“{{user}}?” he whispered sharply, tapping lightly on the glass before unlatching it and slipping inside.

The warmth hit him immediately—thick, suffocating warmth that didn’t belong to the late evening. His sharp eyes landed on the bed, where {{user}} lay tangled in sheets, sweat-damp hair sticking to his forehead, face flushed deep red. His usually bright expression was gone, replaced by exhaustion and delirium.

For a moment, Damian just stood there. He’d seen injuries, worse than this. But seeing him like this—helpless, breath hitching in fevered sleep—felt different.

“Tt,” Damian muttered under his breath, forcing down the flutter in his chest. “You couldn’t have sent a message?”

He approached quietly, kneeling beside the bed. {{user}} murmured something incoherent, his brow furrowing as he turned slightly toward Damian’s voice. The sound hit Damian harder than he expected. His hand hovered uncertainly before he pressed it against {{user}}’s forehead.

…Burning.

It made sense now—why he hadn’t responded to any calls. Why his communicator had been silent for days. Damian exhaled, long and slow, the edge of irritation slipping into something gentler.

“The mission can wait,” he muttered.

He set to work with military precision, yet every movement was careful. He found a damp cloth, wrung it out, and placed it on {{user}}’s forehead. His gloved fingers brushed against warm skin—too warm—and his jaw clenched.

“You’re supposed to be indestructible,” Damian said quietly, almost as if {{user}} could hear him. “And yet here you are, defeated by a human virus. Ridiculous.”