Whumpril 2026 Day 21: Pained Smile (DC Batfamily Fic)
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Whumpril 2026 Day 6: Carried
This is a continuation of Whumpril 2026 Day 6: Carried! I wrote this when I myself was pretty sick, so hopefully it still reads okay! This is a DC fanfiction featuring Nightwing and the Batfamily.
Unfortunately for Dick, and everyone else in the manor really, the antidote wasn’t a cure-all. It saved his life, yes, but he would still be fairly sick for the next several days. There was nothing to do for it except let the poison run its course.
Dick had been caught out of bed twice today, and both times had he been escorted back to his room in the manor. He stared up at the ceiling, banging his head against the pillow. He had been laying here for days, with absolutely nothing to do. The books on the nightstand and the video games by the TV would beg to differ, but that wasn’t the point.
Dick was almost out of bed for the third time when he heard Stephanie’s voice down the hall.
“And that’s when I said, Mad Hatter? More like Sad Hatter!”
It almost sounded like she was talking to herself, but eventually he heard Cass’ response.
“…Leave the quips to Dick.”
He chuckled to himself.
“Okay but seriously, Mad Hatter got away and we gotta go after him, like, now,” Stephanie’s voice grew fainter as the girls approached the stairs.
That settled it. Dick climbed out of bed and made a beeline for the Batcave, sticking to the shadows of the manor. It took him longer than usual to make it down there, mostly because his sense of balance eluded him and the fatigue made itself known after about three paces.
…
Nightwing had just slid his mask on when a bo staff tapped him on the shoulder. He whipped around, which unfortunately did give him quite the dizzy spell. He felt a headache coming on.
“Dami.” He smiled through the pounding in his head, “what’s up?”
“Why are you out of bed?” Robin asked flatly.
Straight to business, as always.
“Mad Hatter’s loose,” Nightwing said, “someone needs to crash his tea party.”
“That someone is not going to be you,” Robin stated.
“I’m fine,” Nightwing said, ruffling his brother’s hair, “I’ll be quick. Just gathering intel.”
Damian blocked his path to his motorcycle.
“You are still unwell. Father says you are not to leave the manor until you have fully recovered.”
Nightwing huffed, putting his hands on his hips. Damian wasn’t going to just let this go, was he?
“I’ll let you drive the Batmobile,” he said.
That should do it.
“Pass.”
Seriously!?
“I’m not gonna stand here arguing with you all night, Damian,” Nightwing said.
He pushed past Damian despite his protests and mounted his bike. In doing so, he almost fell over, but he managed to right himself in the end.
After slipping his helmet on, he pressed the ignition button. The engine roared to life. He shifted into gear. Finally, he was getting out of this prison of a manor!
A choking sound came up from the cycle. Everything died down as the vehicle stalled. Dick’s eyes widened, but he didn’t curse; he didn’t want to give Damian the satisfaction.
He pulled his helmet off and glared at the smaller bird.
“What did you do?” he demanded.
“Nothing whatever,” Damian said, “my hands are clean.”
His smug expression suggested otherwise. Dick hopped off the bike, stumbling a little. He almost crashed to the floor when strong arms caught him from behind. He looked up into blue eyes tinged with the green of the Lazarus pit.
“You,” Dick seethed.
“Me.” Jason deadpanned.
Dick scrambled to get out of his brother’s grip. As he righted himself, Jason and Damian both had their arms out as if he was going to drop back down at any moment.
“I’m good!” Dick nearly shouted.
“Your vestibular sense tells a different tale,” Damian remarked.
“Come on, Big Blue, it was a good try, but you’re going back to bed,” Jason said.
His brother’s hand rested on his shoulder, and Dick’s knees almost buckled. He made a big show of sighing and throwing his head back. Was it a drama queen move? Maybe. He didn’t much care though.
“I have been stuck in that prison for a week!” Dick argued.
“It’s been three days,” Damian said.
Jason and Damian began escorting him up the steps and back to his room. Halfway up the staircase, they had to pause while Dick put one hand against the wall and cradled his head with the other.
“Richard…”
“I’m good.” He forced himself to flash a grin, “just annoyed with you two, that’s all.”
The lights in the manor started to dim. When he went down this time, he didn’t get a chance to right himself.
…
“Idiot!” Jason shouted.
He had caught Dick before he could hit his head. His eyes were closed under the mask, and his breathing came in deep if not a bit ragged.
“I’m gonna duct tape him to the bed,” Jason muttered.
Jason proceeded to sling his brother over his shoulder and finish the ascent to the bedrooms. Damian was right behind him.
Jason dropped him on the bed like a ragdoll and proceeded to throw the covers over his form.
“He’s still in the suit,” Damian pointed out.
“If he wants to sleep in a skintight, bullet-proof bodysuit, that’s on him,” Jason said, “he’s gonna be really uncomfortable when he wakes up covered in silver.”
Jason left to make good on his tape threat. Damian went to follow, but Dick stirred a little in his sleep. Damian watched as he rolled onto his side and settled down once more. Imbecile.
…
Dick’s eyes fluttered open to the same four walls and dull ceiling they had been opening to for the past seventy-two hours.
His mask sat on his nightstand, and his boots lay discarded at the foot of the bed. As he sat up, he glanced around for any signs of Jason or Damian.
He ended up finding worse.
“B…” Dick smiled nervously.
“Dick.”
There was the gruff, disappointed voice usually reserved for missions gone wrong.
“You can’t keep making these escape attempts. You’re going to set back your recovery even further, and then it will take that much longer to be in the field again.”
“You guys gave me the antidote,” Dick said, “any other things are residual symptoms I can push through.”
“Really? Blacking out is something you can push through?”
Dick opened his mouth, then closed it.
“You’re being reckless. Again. If you’re not careful you won’t be resting temporarily.”
A pause. A little boy peeked out from behind Bruce, with twin curls in his dark hair and blood staining his bright costume. The boy dragged a finger across his neck. Dick tried to ignore the apparition and focused on Bruce’s chest plate instead.
“I’m assigning someone to stay with you for the remainder of your recovery.”
“Bruce-!”
“Everyone’s agreed to take it in turns,” Bruce said, “no one is to leave you alone for a second. If I find out you’ve tried to pull a stunt like today’s again…”
Bruce didn’t say anything; the silence allowed Dick’s imagination to fill in the blanks, and Dick could imagine quite a bit. The tiny Jason in the background wasn’t helping things either. He produced a syringe, squirting out the air bubbles. When that object disappeared, he had a roll of duct tape. Dick could actually hear the stuff being peeled off the roll.
Bruce seemed satisfied for the moment. He stood. He pulled his cowl over his head. As the Batman left, Jason, the real Jason, came in.
Little Jason disappeared into a cloud of mist as big Jason sat down. Dick wouldn’t look at him, instead opting to look straight ahead at the TV, which was not on.
Without a word, Jason got up and took two controllers from a charging dock. He tossed one to Dick and turned on the TV.
Jason had put on a classic Super Mario Bros game.
“Aw, Jay,” Dick said.
“I get to be player one this time,” Jason said.
“Yeah, no, no you don’t.”
Before Jason could argue, Dick switched their controllers.
“You are a child,” Jason huffed.
“The oldest child, Jason, and it comes with certain birthrights that cannot be ignored.”
As Dick chose Toad from the player selection screen, he didn’t notice how the entire manor sighed in relief. Jason had come home to eat Alfred’s cookies and look after his brother, and the cookie plate was empty. As long as he kept Dick busy with Mario games, he would stay resting and recover on schedule. Being demoted to player two was worth that.
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