Sickness That is not Sea Realted
Prompt fill for avanalae (from my tumblr): Woo! It's my turn to give you a prompt!! :D Hmmm. Do you mind if I ask for something from the pirates AU? Because I would love to see Tim taking care of a sick crew member, or even sick Jason, and being all knowledgeable and awesome and stuff. XD
Pairing: Jason/Tim
Verse: pirate!verse
Word Count: 1,079
Summary: The Captain is sick and Tim is the only one with the skills to handle that.
---
Jason has been asleep all day. The crew is getting restless. Rightfully so. Tim has been nominated as the one to knock on the door of the Captain’s Quarters and find out what’s up with the Captain. (Everyone else’s knees had been knocking together, which is why Tim was nominated.)
“Captain Todd?” Tim asks, knocking his knuckles on the door. “Ah, Jason?”
“Fuck off.”
Tim rolls his eyes, tries the knob, and lets himself in. (Jason is painfully messy. There are clothes everywhere. It’s. …it needs cleaning.) Ignoring the clothes, there is a large, Captain sized lump in the bed, wrapped in covers (that obviously came from Russia somewhere, because they’re so thick).
“I said fuck off,” Jason’s voice is wobbly. Tim moves over to the bed and tugs on the covers. They slip from Jason’s fingers, revealing a flushed, yet shivering Captain curled up in bed. He blinks up at Tim and groans, covering his eyes with his hands. “What did you not understand?”
“I think I seemed to tune you out at the word ‘fuck.’”
“That’s not a good sign for me, is it?” The chuckle that slips past Jason’s lips is weak and breathy.
“Ha. That joke was almost as bad as mine.” Tim rests his palm on Jason’s forehead and feels almost scalded. “You’ve got a fever, boss.”
“Bollocks and bullshit. I do not--“
“You have a fever, don’t lie.” Tim pries apart Jason lips and checks his gums and teeth (which are perfect). “You don’t have scurvy, so you don’t have a Vitamin C deficiency. What I wouldn’t give for an ice pack. Mm.”
“What are you talkin’ about, l’il bird?”
“Wait here. Don’t move. You’ll probably throw up. I’ll check below decks, see if we’ve got anything for soup.”
“This look like an inn, to you?”
But Tim’s already out the door.
-
Tim is dissatisfied with the soup. It’s not as healthy or as rich as he would like it to be. But it will be easier to eat then anything else the crew’s cook could make.
And as he spoon-feeds Jason, he is glad that there is a Captain’s Cabin, or the whole crew could catch this.
“What do I even have?” Jason asks, heaving a sigh.
“Well, it seems like you caught a bacteria. It’s not viral, which is good. But, then, it’s not really any different because I don’t have anything to treat it with. Then again, you’re not Vitamin C deficient, so your immune system should take care of it.”
“I’ve got you nursin’ me, right?”
“Unless you’d rather I send someone else in here, Captain?”
“You do that, I’ll contemplate killin’ you.”
Tim smiles, gathers another spoonful of soup, and holds it out.
-
“Are you feeling any better?” Day three of the Captain’s bacterial infection. He’s coughing now. Tim has a guess as to what this could be, he has seen it before. Dick came down with it a year or so back. The doctor didn’t have a name for it, but…
“I feel like shit. Why am I coughing now?” He hacks, but there’s no mucous sound.
“Open wide,” Tim says, setting the soup he had been cradling on the bedside table. Jason does as he is asked, and Tim looks at his tonsils, having only the light from the small window to see by. But he thinks he can see some white spots on Jason’s tonsils… “Ah. I think you might have streptococcus. It’s an inflammation of the tonsils, caused by a bacteria, like I said before.”
“…how do you have a name for this?”
“I made it up. Well, there’s this really interesting study using a thing called a microscope, and they look at things that people can see, and they’re trying to classify them. A lot of bacteria are diseases, and some scientists have even classified a couple--babbling. Sorry.” Tim grabs the soup bowl. Jason’s hands are shaking too much to hold it.
“How do you know so damn much?”
“There wasn’t much to do at my house. There wasn’t much to do at Bruce’s house either. But he had some books on bacteria. I was researching.”
“Heh.” Jason smiles around the spoon. “Always knew you were smart when you weren’t talkin’. Just watching and listening. A genius.” H swallows and leans back. “This soup is good.”
“It could be better. There aren’t near enough vegetables and there could be a meat in here but--“
“It’s good, Tim. Thank you for having it made.”
“I.” Tim feels himself blushing. “I. Thank you.”
Jason grins fades and withers. “Hey, are you catching what I have? You could send in another nursemaid, I’ll be--“
“No!” Tim says. And it’s a little too fast and a little too high-pitched but. “I mean. No. I. This is fine. I like taking care of you. Makes me feel more useful than punching the stuffing out of other people.”
“You’re useful,” Jason says. And his voice sounds a little defensive. “I haven’t killed anyone in the last two raids, now have I?”
Tim smiles, holds out another spoonful of soup. “No. You haven’t. Open wide, Captain.”
“Ahhhh.”
-
Jason gets better faster than a lot of people Tim’s ever nursed. Well, he’s only ever nursed Dick, and now Jason. Dick was in bed for weeks, complaining about how sick he was. Sick and miserable.
But it’s day five and Jason’s already out of bed. His cheeks are still a little flushed, but they go well with his red leather jacket. He’s not shivering anymore, and he can walk on both feet. He didn’t even vomit once.
Jason is resilient, if Tim were to be asked about his character and his health.
“L’il bird!” Jason calls from the wheel. Tim walks up the stairs, and leans his back against the railing, looking at his Captain.
“Yes, boss?”
Jason smiles. “Thank you. For the soup and tellin’ me to rest and all that. Helped a lot.” He turns, and leaps forward. Tim almost stumbles backward, over the railing and onto the deck below. But Jason’s arms wrap around Tim, pulling him close.
His cheeks go red again.
“Ah, Captain--“
Jason pulls away, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “I’ll blame it on the fever, okay?” He tugs on Tim’s left cheek. “And you can say so too, if you choose to hug back.”
Tim does.
(But he can’t lie. It’s not because of the fever.)
Pairing: Jason/Tim
Verse: pirate!verse
Word Count: 1,079
Summary: The Captain is sick and Tim is the only one with the skills to handle that.
---
Jason has been asleep all day. The crew is getting restless. Rightfully so. Tim has been nominated as the one to knock on the door of the Captain’s Quarters and find out what’s up with the Captain. (Everyone else’s knees had been knocking together, which is why Tim was nominated.)
“Captain Todd?” Tim asks, knocking his knuckles on the door. “Ah, Jason?”
“Fuck off.”
Tim rolls his eyes, tries the knob, and lets himself in. (Jason is painfully messy. There are clothes everywhere. It’s. …it needs cleaning.) Ignoring the clothes, there is a large, Captain sized lump in the bed, wrapped in covers (that obviously came from Russia somewhere, because they’re so thick).
“I said fuck off,” Jason’s voice is wobbly. Tim moves over to the bed and tugs on the covers. They slip from Jason’s fingers, revealing a flushed, yet shivering Captain curled up in bed. He blinks up at Tim and groans, covering his eyes with his hands. “What did you not understand?”
“I think I seemed to tune you out at the word ‘fuck.’”
“That’s not a good sign for me, is it?” The chuckle that slips past Jason’s lips is weak and breathy.
“Ha. That joke was almost as bad as mine.” Tim rests his palm on Jason’s forehead and feels almost scalded. “You’ve got a fever, boss.”
“Bollocks and bullshit. I do not--“
“You have a fever, don’t lie.” Tim pries apart Jason lips and checks his gums and teeth (which are perfect). “You don’t have scurvy, so you don’t have a Vitamin C deficiency. What I wouldn’t give for an ice pack. Mm.”
“What are you talkin’ about, l’il bird?”
“Wait here. Don’t move. You’ll probably throw up. I’ll check below decks, see if we’ve got anything for soup.”
“This look like an inn, to you?”
But Tim’s already out the door.
-
Tim is dissatisfied with the soup. It’s not as healthy or as rich as he would like it to be. But it will be easier to eat then anything else the crew’s cook could make.
And as he spoon-feeds Jason, he is glad that there is a Captain’s Cabin, or the whole crew could catch this.
“What do I even have?” Jason asks, heaving a sigh.
“Well, it seems like you caught a bacteria. It’s not viral, which is good. But, then, it’s not really any different because I don’t have anything to treat it with. Then again, you’re not Vitamin C deficient, so your immune system should take care of it.”
“I’ve got you nursin’ me, right?”
“Unless you’d rather I send someone else in here, Captain?”
“You do that, I’ll contemplate killin’ you.”
Tim smiles, gathers another spoonful of soup, and holds it out.
-
“Are you feeling any better?” Day three of the Captain’s bacterial infection. He’s coughing now. Tim has a guess as to what this could be, he has seen it before. Dick came down with it a year or so back. The doctor didn’t have a name for it, but…
“I feel like shit. Why am I coughing now?” He hacks, but there’s no mucous sound.
“Open wide,” Tim says, setting the soup he had been cradling on the bedside table. Jason does as he is asked, and Tim looks at his tonsils, having only the light from the small window to see by. But he thinks he can see some white spots on Jason’s tonsils… “Ah. I think you might have streptococcus. It’s an inflammation of the tonsils, caused by a bacteria, like I said before.”
“…how do you have a name for this?”
“I made it up. Well, there’s this really interesting study using a thing called a microscope, and they look at things that people can see, and they’re trying to classify them. A lot of bacteria are diseases, and some scientists have even classified a couple--babbling. Sorry.” Tim grabs the soup bowl. Jason’s hands are shaking too much to hold it.
“How do you know so damn much?”
“There wasn’t much to do at my house. There wasn’t much to do at Bruce’s house either. But he had some books on bacteria. I was researching.”
“Heh.” Jason smiles around the spoon. “Always knew you were smart when you weren’t talkin’. Just watching and listening. A genius.” H swallows and leans back. “This soup is good.”
“It could be better. There aren’t near enough vegetables and there could be a meat in here but--“
“It’s good, Tim. Thank you for having it made.”
“I.” Tim feels himself blushing. “I. Thank you.”
Jason grins fades and withers. “Hey, are you catching what I have? You could send in another nursemaid, I’ll be--“
“No!” Tim says. And it’s a little too fast and a little too high-pitched but. “I mean. No. I. This is fine. I like taking care of you. Makes me feel more useful than punching the stuffing out of other people.”
“You’re useful,” Jason says. And his voice sounds a little defensive. “I haven’t killed anyone in the last two raids, now have I?”
Tim smiles, holds out another spoonful of soup. “No. You haven’t. Open wide, Captain.”
“Ahhhh.”
-
Jason gets better faster than a lot of people Tim’s ever nursed. Well, he’s only ever nursed Dick, and now Jason. Dick was in bed for weeks, complaining about how sick he was. Sick and miserable.
But it’s day five and Jason’s already out of bed. His cheeks are still a little flushed, but they go well with his red leather jacket. He’s not shivering anymore, and he can walk on both feet. He didn’t even vomit once.
Jason is resilient, if Tim were to be asked about his character and his health.
“L’il bird!” Jason calls from the wheel. Tim walks up the stairs, and leans his back against the railing, looking at his Captain.
“Yes, boss?”
Jason smiles. “Thank you. For the soup and tellin’ me to rest and all that. Helped a lot.” He turns, and leaps forward. Tim almost stumbles backward, over the railing and onto the deck below. But Jason’s arms wrap around Tim, pulling him close.
His cheeks go red again.
“Ah, Captain--“
Jason pulls away, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “I’ll blame it on the fever, okay?” He tugs on Tim’s left cheek. “And you can say so too, if you choose to hug back.”
Tim does.
(But he can’t lie. It’s not because of the fever.)