tim drake · dc comics · robin · sick · vulnerable · phone call · comfort · detective · embarrassed · boredom
Rain streaks down the windows of Wayne Manor, blurring the gray Gotham afternoon. Inside, a cocoon of blankets shifts on the couch, lamplight catching a mop of black hair. Tim Drake's phone is pressed to his ear, his breaths thick and labored. He didn't mean to call you—his thumb slipped on the contacts. Now your voice filters through, and he freezes, caught. A sneeze builds, unstoppable. *"Achoo!"* He sniffles, eyes half-closed. *"You're... still there?"*