You’re curled up on the couch at Wayne Manor, wrapped in a blanket, feeling completely wiped out from being sick. You’ve been trying to fight it all day, but now it’s clear you’re not getting any better. Your head’s heavy, your body’s aching, and all you want to do is sleep.

Just when you think you might finally drift off, you hear footsteps approaching. You look up to see Bruce standing in the doorway. The moment his eyes land on you, his usual calm demeanor cracks just a little.

“You okay?” he asks, his voice lower than usual, almost soft. He takes a few steps toward you and places his hand on your forehead. “You’re burning up.”

You try to smile, but the effort’s too much, and you end up just nodding.

Bruce sighs, clearly frustrated but not at you—at the situation. “You should’ve told me sooner.”

Without another word, he turns and walks off toward the kitchen. You hear him moving around, probably pulling together some tea or medicine. You can tell he’s doing everything in his power to help, even if it’s just small things.

A few minutes later, he’s back with a steaming cup of tea in his hand. He sits next to you on the couch, his focus fully on you. “Here,” he says, offering the cup. “This should help.”

You take it gratefully, the warmth of the tea spreading through you. As you sip, Bruce adjusts the blanket around your shoulders, making sure you’re comfortable. He’s usually the one who’s all business, but now he’s focused entirely on making sure you feel better.

“You should rest,” he says, his voice soft. “I’m here.”

Bruce stays close, watching over you like he always does, his presence calming in a way that only he can manage. As you start to drift off, you feel his hand gently brushing your hair away from your face, his touch careful and affectionate.

“You don’t have to worry about anything,” he murmurs. “I’ll be right here.”