Chicken Noodle Soup

Summary: When Dick comes down with a bad case of the flu after weeks of pushing himself out on the streets (and not getting his shot), Wally rushes back home to Blüdhaven so he can nurse his fiancé back to health. As it turns out, the time together might be just what they need. Established Nightflash. Mostly, if not all, fluff and cuteness. May become a multi-chapter fic. Please read and review!

Rating: M

Warnings: Alcohol, Alternate Universe, Anal Intercourse, Anilingus, Angst, Barebacking, Cuddling, Death (Past; Mentioned), Dorty Talk, Drama, Drugs, Fluff, Family, Fevers, Fingering, Flashbacks, Fluff, Friendship, Handjobs, Humour, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, Language, Love, Medical Babble, Nightflash (Established), Nightmares, Non-Canon Pairings, OOC, Oral Sex, Pillow Fights, Possible Triggers, Protective!Wally, Romance, Shower!Sex, Sick!Dick, Slash, Spanking, Speedster Powers, Teasing, Tickling, Violence (Light), Wally's Cooking, Whump, etc.

Point Of View: Third person's POV, set in past tense and using story format. Focuses mainly on Dick and Wally as per the usual with my stories—maybe someone else, though that's unlikely given the setting.

Disclaimer: I own nothing, but the plot idea. I am in no way affiliated with DC Comics or its associates and claim no ownership of its characters or their various unending franchises. Young Justice is not mine, nor are Wally and Dick, no matter how much as I wish that they were! This is a not-for-profit piece of fan work meant to entertain and nothing more!

"Are you sure you have to go?"

Wally paused, midway through packing his suitcase, to look over at his fiancé. The younger man was frowning at him, his expression displeased. Neither of them really liked being apart for long periods of time. It would be sweet if it wasn't so ridiculous. They could take care of themselves just fine, but it didn't stop the two heroes from being extremely protective of one another.

Maybe it was due to the fact that they had been not only an on-again/off-again couple until recently, but had also known each other and been best friends for the last fifteen years. That sort of bond had layers few people were lucky enough to understand. They'd seen each other at their greatest and at their worst, plus everything in between the two.

Expression softening, the redhead crossed the rather tiny bedroom in three quick strides, climbing up beside Dick and instinctively reaching for his hands, "Hey. Are you sure you're okay with this?" He knew how tactile the other was. He didn't really enjoy being alone except on the rare occasions where he wanted his space. "I can always have Uncle Barry and Bart find someone else to help them to take care of the Rogues, you know." He slid closer, wrapping his arms around the acrobat.

The raven-haired man sighed, rolling his eyes as he leaned into the touch, "The Justice League's been swamped lately. Who're you gonna call? Jay? He's ninety three and retired. Go. They need you more than I do at the moment." Dick closed his eyes when he felt Wally kiss the top of his head, already feeling down about his impending absence.

"I'll make it up to you when I get back, I promise." He murmured against the soft black hair of his partner.

"Sure, whatever."

The speedster frowned at the other's rather listless and dismissive response, "I mean it." He took a firm but still gentle hold of the brunette's chin, tilting his head back slightly so he could search his twilight blue eyes. "Dick, is everything alright? You can handle Blüdhaven by yourself for a bit, right?" At the disbelieving look he received, Wally snickered at his own expense, "Sorry. Stupid question. But you are going to be okay on your own, right?"

"I'll be fine, Walls," the former Boy Wonder assured him, snuggling back down into his embrace. "Maybe I'll go crash at the Manor for a bit, see how the family's been getting along since Christmas..." He trailed off, feeling warm breath on his neck as the older man began to kiss along the exposed column of his throat.

The redhead grinned slightly, "Damian will like that." He commented, distractedly, nibbling gently at the soft beige skin, and Dick was slowly melting in his arms due to his actions. "You know, I still have some time before I'm supposed to be in Central City." He murmured huskily in his fiancé's ear.

"Is that so?" Dick's reply came in a breathless voice as he craned his head back to give the Metahuman more room to work. "Well, then you'd...ahh...better take advantage of it while you still can..." He let that hang in the air for a moment, and soon found himself being pulled backwards into Wally's lap, pale hands wandering his body with a practiced skill. He couldn't help but moan as the redhead sucked hard at his collarbone, ensuring that a lasting mark would be left behind for days to come.

As Wally lavished attention on the lightly tanned neck being presented to him, his right hand was ever so slowly moving up the younger man's torso, sliding beneath the white tank top that hugged his lover's muscular body.

"No teasing me," the brunette growled out as a thumb brushed against one of his nipples, causing him to arch his back involuntarily. A perpetually warm hand hovered over his crotch and he frowned, lifting his hips and scowling when the hand moved away, "Wally, I mean it! Just—"

He gave a startled yelp when the Metahuman suddenly turned and threw him down onto the bed, but he groaned when Wally's body quickly covered his own, "Just what?" The redhead questioned in a heated voice, kissing him soundly for a moment, before pulling back, grinning at him confidently. "Just fuck you? Suck you off? Leave you here to masturbate?" He slipped a hand between Dick's slightly parted legs, shamelessly fondling him while the younger of the two gasped and squirmed in response. "You'll have to be more specific..."

"B–Bastard!" The acrobat managed, letting his head fall back against the bed sheets as Wally curled a finger around the waistband of his sweatpants, peeling the wool down and feeling a lusty smirk cross his face as Dick's body was exposed to him, already tense with anticipation. He licked the palm of his hand and didn't dawdle, reaching down to curl his hand around the other's throbbing cock, savouring the soft but audible whine he gave as a result.

The speedster subtly checked the time.

Oh yeah, he could do this and still make it, no problem, which was good because he didn't know how long he'd be gone for, not that it mattered, because any time away from Dick was too much, especially when he was looking like this—flushed and wanting and desperate. God, he was so beautiful.

He leaned forward and began plastering the younger man's face and neck with kisses, trailing down his throat and to his chest. A quiver ran through the ebony's body when Wally's wet tongue flickered across his nipples, all while the elder hero's vibrating hand continued swiping up and down, moving around in long twisting pulls that had Dick panting in seconds.

"Nnnngh! Oh f–fuck! Wally, please!" He screwed his eyes shut and gave a broken whimper when the redhead fisted his erection, rubbing his thumb in slow circles over the tip, his hips bucked forward, shivers now constantly running through him. He was already so close.

Seeming to sense this, the Metahuman manoeuvred his now naked body over Dick's (when the hell had he even taken his clothes off?), hand still pumping between them, and kissed his lover passionately, nibbling and licking at his lower lip, and feeling the brunette's shaking intensify suddenly. "C'mon, Baby," he whispered to him, tightening his grip and feeling the younger hero squirm furiously beneath him when he twisted his wrist on the up-stroke, "You can let go. I've got you." He encouraged his partner.

The raven-haired man's body jerked forward practically against his will, a choked cry tearing from the back of his throat as that familiar white hot pleasure temporarily blinded him, and then he suddenly collapsed against the bed, shuddering and trying to catch his breath with little success.

When he finally opened his eyes again, he noticed Wally watching him intently, smirking, "S–Shut up." He said self-consciously before the redhead could make another comment about how "cute" he looked, which he'd heard from him plenty of times before. He was not cute.

The smirk widened into a grin, and the speedster told him, "I didn't even say anything."

"No, but you were about to." Dick stretched out his body and glanced at the clock, but couldn't make it out from his current position. "When are you supposed to be at Central again?" He asked, unable to help looking his fiancé up and down. Honestly, being that attractive should've been illegal.

"About half an hour... Why?"

The former circus brat grinned, and before Wally could figure out why, the raven was reversing their positions so he was straddling the older boy's legs, cackling gleefully at his slightly shocked expression. "Because I'm not done with you yet." He reached for their nightstand, fumbling for a bit before withdrawing a bottle of Liquid Silk.

Wally's expression cleared, and he reached for it, but Dick slapped his hands away. "You take too long," he huffed out as he poured a generous amount of lube into his hand and wrapped it around the other's length. He was already hard and aching all over again, and the last thing he wanted was the Metahuman wasting all their time because he was overly cautious about prepping.

Screw using fingers first, they'd been at this long enough it didn't even hurt anymore.

It was obvious that the redhead wanted to protest, but the words became stuck when he felt the smaller but still strong, callused hand moving around him. The acrobat positioned himself above Wally seconds later, his features sharper and more mature than the first time they did this—ten years ago almost—but still just as flushed. He took a deep breath, and then slammed himself down on the speedster's cock.

A strangled scream pierced the room.

Green eyes shot open wide at the sound and hands flashed up to grip Dick's arms, "Are you okay?" He asked gently, worriedly. The younger man grimaced and nodded shakily, his body throbbing with pain. He was sore and would definitely regret his impatience later, but despite it all the familiar heated sensations curling just behind his navel remained.

Wally was massaging his shoulders, and it helped him relax, which lessened the discomfort considerably. "I think I'm good..." He murmured, and the redhead nodded as he reached up and grasped the black-haired boy's hips tightly while Dick balanced himself by pressing his palms against the Meta's chest. He slowly lifted himself with the help of his lover, and the groans of both men reverberated through the bedroom as he plunged himself back down on the other's length, pleasure spiking up his spine as it stabbed into the depths of his body.

Their rhythm started out more or less as a slow rocking with the occasional thrust mixed in, tongues tangling and teeth clacking as they moaned into each other's mouths, their hands groping clumsily at whatever they could reach. It seemed like no matter how many times they did this, they could never get enough. But then again, they were two hot, horny guys in their twenties who happened to adore each other, they were allowed to be desperate for sex.

Suddenly, Wally started buzzing—something that usually happened sooner or later when they were intimate, often times unintentionally. The vibrations ran up into the younger vigilante's oversensitive body and he swore filthily as his arms gave out, whimpering, "Wa–hnnngh–Wally!"

As soon as the speedster flipped them over and he was on his back, Dick wrapped his legs around his lover's waist, ankles digging into his flesh hard enough to leave a bruise that wouldn't last longer than a few minutes, and pretty soon they were both moaning like professionals.

"H–Harder!" The brunette pleaded, arching sharply and nearly choking when the redhead's cock seared a path across his prostate. He gripped Wally's shoulders, making him hiss as sharp nails scraped his skin. "Oh God! Yes! Right there!" He writhed, feeling the coil in his stomach tightening up like a snake poised to strike.

"Jesus," Wally was kissing every part of his fiancé that he could access, his thrusts becoming quick, sharp jerks as he crushed their mouths together roughly. He was nearly there. "Come with me, Dick," he ordered breathlessly as one hand shot down to pump the younger man's length.

It didn't take long before the former Boy Wonder was spasming beneath his partner, throwing his head back as he came with a hoarse scream, vaguely aware of the Metahuman cursing as his body clenched all around him. There were a few more hard thrusts from his lover and then Dick shivered as a wet heat flooded through him.

He fell back against the mattress, eyes fluttering shut tiredly.

The spent young man barely felt Wally ease out gently. He heard him whisper loving comments as he cleaned him up—or maybe he only thought he did. It was all routine by that point. All he knew was that the bubbly afterglow of sex had a soothing effect on him. He was definitely out by the time a blanket was pulled up over his shoulders and a kiss pressed to the tip of his nose though.

Despite him being fast asleep, Wally hoped that the words still somehow managed to reach his ears.

I love you, Baby, take good care of yourself.

Nightwing was exhausted.

If it hadn't been for the fact that the Nocturnal Avenger couldn't remember the last time that he'd actually slept instead of simply taking short power naps between patrols, studying for his college classes, looking into joining the police academy and helping his brothers out occasionally, maybe he wouldn't have been all but dead on his feet by the time he finally got back home.

He wanted to consider it a relatively successful evening, except that he was honestly having trouble keeping his eyes open at the moment, let alone thinking back on and critiquing his performance on the street. The young man's entire body ached terribly, his throat was raw from coughing and it hurt so bad when he swallowed that if he didn't know better, the brunette would swear the last thing he ate were steel-edged razor blades. He felt like he was on the verge of passing out, yet he was somehow still able to find his way back home without losing consciousness, only to nearly collapse on the fire escape outside his window.

Maybe I should have stayed home tonight...

Strong hands suddenly catching him by the shoulders at the last second were the only thing that kept him from doing a face plant into the apartment. "Holy shit..." A familiar voice muttered (though he couldn't place it in his current state), and suddenly his legs were being swept out from underneath him. The movement made his stomach roll sickeningly, but he managed to avoid throwing up the meager contents of it out of sheer willpower alone.

The conscious part of his mind told the raven-haired man that he should be concerned, while the rest of it was too sleep deprived and sore-feeling to care what was happening. He just needed a few minutes... then he'd deal with whatever the hell was going on right now.

Something soft was pressed against his back—a bed, most likely, and Nightwing felt a light tugging on the mask covering his eyes, which set off enough alarm bells for him to try to push them away. No one could see his face while he was costumed... Bruce would bust a blood vessel if he ever let that happen. Not to mention it would mean risking the identities and safety of everyone that he cared about.

"Dick, relax!"

He froze at the use of his real name, and the acrobat forced his eyes open despite the pounding headache that protested him moving even a muscle, and all he saw was a reddish-orange blur and a flash of pale skin before his eyelids shut against his wishes, unable to fight the fatigue that had been plaguing him for several days now.

But he'd seen enough to know who it was. "W...Wally?"

A warm knuckle brushed over his cheekbone, pushing sweat-dampened hair out of his face, and a worried but soothing voice replied, "Yeah, Babe, it's just me. Go to sleep, alright? I'll take care of you." You big damn idiot, he added to himself silently, why didn't you call and tell me that you weren't feeling well? Stupid stubborn Bat.

Wally. Fiancé. Safe.


"Nnnn... 'm head hurts." He mumbled his complaint, and the words sounded different even to him. Sluggish. Deft fingers undid the concealed zipper of his uniform, and he felt Wally pulling the suit off of him, making him release a long sigh of relief as the clingy spandex and Nomex was removed from his fevered body.

"The headache will go away when you let yourself get some rest, Dickie," He heard the redhead say, a light blanket being draped over him even as he felt the ceiling fan flicker on, keeping him from overheating. "Here, drink this." Wally's hand slipped beneath his head, tilting it forward slightly, and the rim of a water bottle pressed against his lips.

Parched, Dick greedily drank from it, and drank and drank, until there wasn't a single drop left, and only then did he turn his head, leaning into Wally's touch with a grateful sigh, "...Missed you..." Of course he did, who else would put up with his ridiculous refusal to take the night off, even when he was so sick he felt like a bag of dirty needles that just wanted to crawl into a hole and be left to die?

The speedster had been in Central City for the last couple of weeks, helping out Flash and Kid Flash (formerly known as Impulse) with the Rogues, after they'd been wreaking a particular amount of havoc across Central and Keystone. He understood the elder having an obligation to his family, but he did wish he wasn't gone for such a long period of time.

Chuckling sounded above him, and a pair of soft, warm lips touched his with the gentlest of pressures, pulling away after a few short moments, "I missed you too, now go to bed, Dickie, it's really early in the morning. I'll be here when you wake up, I promise. Love you."

He muttered something that he hoped was a return of that affectionate sentiment, and before he knew it, he was being swept away in the familiar, comforting darkness of sleep...

Despite knowing it wasn't his fault, Wally still felt the guilt eating him up inside as he watched Dick toss and turn in their shared bed, giving dry, pained coughs and shivering even though he was flushed red with his slightly heightened temperature. It was stupid, because his fiancé was twenty-three years old and perfectly capable of taking care of himself.

At least he should have been.

The redhead often forgot that he had been raised by the Batman, who never took a sick day in his life and thought giving his protégés extra time to train was good encouragement if they failed a fitness test. He doubt the guy even knew what bed rest was. But that was probably because the germs were too afraid to try attacking him. Humour aside, he was upset because he should have figured out from how off Dick had sounded on the phone calls that the younger man wasn't feeling well.

Normally, if something happened to Nightwing, Strike could handle patrolling Blüdhaven alone for a few days, and vice versa. But this month the Strike had been helping his uncle and second cousin out with their enemies. By the time he'd heard about the sudden Influenza epidemic infecting the New York Metropolitan Area, it was too late. Wally wished he could blame those antivaxxer morons this time, but truth be told, he knew Dick had a habit of avoiding his vaccinations.

It wasn't because he wanted to, necessarily, but because he was nervous about it. Up until the age of nine he hadn't really had access to proper medical care unless there was an emergency. The Flying Graysons hadn't been able to afford it. Bruce's trip with the young orphan to get his first ever vaccine (Hepatitis A) had led to a serious allergic reaction that resulted in him being hospitalized. Not only that, but the acrobat had plenty of other sensitivities as well; pollen, dust, certain antibiotics and foods, etc.

A somewhat traumatic experience involving something that most people were used to by his age meant he'd never quite gotten over his fear of needles, no matter how many times he required stitches due to his career and the like.

Tough break.

As Wally had been there with him at the last several appointments to get his annual flu shot, it seemed like with him gone the brunette had either forgotten or simply opted not to go altogether. Fortunately for the Metahuman he was already safe, for his rapid healing made it impossible for drugs and diseases to penetrate his peak immune system. He hadn't needed a vaccination since he was ten years old. Unfortunately for Dick, however, it seemed like he was one of the few hundred thousand people to catch the illness. Considering he was in the filthiest gutters of the city most nights, that wasn't a huge shocker.

What was really upsetting was that the other crime fighter hadn't informed the speedster about how terrible he was feeling even once during their many phone calls and texts in the last few weeks. It was reckless of him to be put on the streets in his condition, and he fully intended to tell Dick that...

...after he got better.

The last thing anyone wanted when they were feeling like shit was a lecture from their significant other. Right now, what the former Boy Wonder needed was someone to take care of him until he was back to his usual cheerful, energetic self. Since everyone else was either sick or trying to avoid getting sick, who was better to take care of him than his permanently immunized fiancé?

Deciding he would do whatever was necessary to get him healthy again, Wally prepared himself for what would undoubtedly be a week or more of hellish frustration, worry and sleeplessness, because there was one thing he knew for sure: Dick Grayson was a big baby when it came to being sick.

Honestly, the only person he could think of who would probably be a worse patient to have would be his partner's adoptive father. What was it about vigilantism that made them all so completely stubborn about their own health?


Knowing that the raven-haired male wasn't liable to stay asleep for long despite his obvious exhaustion, the Metahuman headed to the kitchen to make him something that he'd be able to keep down. Luckily he knew the exact recipe for Dick's favorite get-well-soon meal: hot, homemade chicken noodle soup. Sure, it couldn't speed up his recovery at all, but it would soothe a sore throat and was light on the stomach.

Thank you Alfred Pennyworth.

"You're overreacting! It's just a cold, I'm fine!"

Wally could slowly feel his headache develop into what he could only imagine would soon become a cerebral aneurysm. He was this close to snapping. The great thing about being engaged was that you could absolutely worship someone with your whole heart and still have the occasional urge to strangle them to within an inch of their life just so they'll stop being so fucking stupid.

He took a slow, unnecessarily deep breath to calm himself, and focused on Dick's face; taking in the flushed yet chalky pallor, the red-rimmed eyes highlighted by dark purple shadows beneath them, and listened to the painfully laboured inhales and exhales as he struggled to properly draw in air despite the scratchy throat and congested nasal passage...

It helped to strengthen his resolve.

Finally, he put on the most intimidating expression he could, mildly surprised when the acrobat flinched slightly, and held up the thermometer he'd purchased earlier that day, "Richard John Grayson, I swear to God, either you open your mouth right now and let me check your temperature or I will bend you over and check it the other way. With or without your consent."

The Metahuman's fiancé lost what little color he had left when he heard that, his gaze shocked but scrutinizing, as if trying to decide whether Wally meant it or not. Apparently the threat worked though, because the moment he inched closer, Dick scrambled back quickly and held his hands up in surrender, "Okay, alright! I'll let you check! Jeez!"

A sweet smile crossed the redhead's face as he handed over the thermometer, watching the young man unhappily stick it under his tongue, folding his arms across his chest and glaring at the bedspread like a petulant child who'd just been thoroughly scolded by their mother.

It beeped a few moments later, and Wally took it from the brunette before he could attempt to cover up the results, "102.3," he read with a frown, "You're staying in bed. No leaving the apartment, and no patrolling."

Dick's eyes widened, and—really? Did the acrobat actually expect that he'd be fine with him going out and fighting psychos, in the middle of February no less, while suffering from an illness that killed sixty-three million people worldwide in the last three hundred years alone? No. No way in hell.

"I'm a grown man, Wally, you can't ground me," the brunette protested, wincing at the sound of his own voice and trying to clear his throat, only to dissolve into another fit of painful, hacking coughs that left him breathless, tears running down his face from the strain.

Almost instantly, the speedster's ire with the younger male vanished and he was by his lover's side, rubbing his back soothingly as he tried to control the wheezing and handing Dick a fresh bottle of water afterwards. He might have been annoyed with his fiancé's stubborn attitude, but he could tell he was feeling miserable at the moment, and reminded himself to be a little bit more understanding.

Just because Wally didn't get sick anymore, that didn't mean he couldn't sympathize with Dick. After all, he had plenty of childhood memories of being ill that stuck out, and they all sucked on so many levels. Instead of yelling at him for being overly argumentative about the situation, the redhead slid into the bed next to Dick and pulled his blankets off. Upon receiving a questioning look from him, Wally held his arms out for him, smiling gently "You don't need those, you've got me."

The boy looked completely bewildered for a moment, and then his expression crumpled and he lunged forward into the speedster's waiting embrace, burying his face against his chest. "I'm sorry," came his muffled voice, and Wally squeezed him tighter, kissing the top of his head.

"You have nothing to he sorry for." He assured his other half as they curled up in bed together. "I'm here for you, and I'm going to make sure you're okay, I promise. You don't need to act tough for me, Rob. You're only human, you're allowed to take a few days off when you're sick. Blüdhaven will survive without us until you're better." He ran his fingers through the other's silken black hair.

Dick pulled slightly away to look at him, his expression was more than a bit sheepish; whether it was due to his earlier childish behaviour or the sudden need for affection, the redhead wasn't sure. "You don't take sick days." He pointed out despite knowing there was a perfectly valid reason for that. "Neither does Bruce."

He smiled playfully, "I said only humans count, vampires don't get the Flu."

The acrobat rolled his eyes and snuggled up close to Wally once more, seeming far more relaxed than he had been before, with his head nestled against the other's chest, finding his personal space heater to be just warm enough not to overheat him. "Hilarious. But I think he's heard that joke before."

Damn it. "Does that mean I can't call him Count Dracula?" He asked, pretending to pout with disappointment. Ever since the two had announced their engagement to the Wayne Family over a year ago, ol' Bats had been giving him a harder time than when they'd just been dating, and he enjoyed finding little ways to rile up the Dark Knight in return. "I mean, come on, the dude keeps pet bats in his basement and let's his kids run around in tight spandex and beat down crooks. Clearly some of his screws have become a bit loose over the years."

"Let me know if you ever decide to say that to his face, so I can, y'know... Run."

Wally laughed out loud at that, squeezing the boy more tightly to him, "Will do." He continued holding his fiancé close, gently stroking his hair, and buzzing very lightly. The vibrations had the desired effect, because Dick had stopped shivering altogether and seemed rather cozy cuddled up to him, his head tilted to the side as he drifted in and out of sleep.

"Rest," the redhead instructed softly. "You need to regain your strength."

Dick gave a tired "M'kay" as his eyelids fluttered shut, and just when the other man thought he was out for the night, he murmured under his breath, "Wally?" When the brunette didn't say anything else for a bit, he almost shrugged it off as being him just speaking in his sleep, until... "You still wanna have kids someday, right?"

The speedster blinked down at his barely conscious partner, wondering where that had come from. He was quite sure the two of them had never had that discussion before, so maybe it was all fever induced, but he had always hoped to have a family—whether the kid was adopted or born through a surrogate. He actually loved the idea. Playing along, he replied, "Sure I do, Babe. Why do you ask?"

His fiancé gave a tired shrug, "Just thinkin' about what we'd name her, that's all..."

Uhh... her? So their unborn hypothetical future child was going to be a daughter? For some reason, he liked that even more than the thought of just having kids in general. "Oh? I'm guessing you have some ideas on that subject, then?"

"Mmm-hmm..." Dick yawned and cuddled closer to him, eyes still shut. "We should call her... Marlea." He pronounced it like Mar-lee-ah, and before the redhead could question his rather unusual choice, he continued, "Course... that would just be a nickname. Her real full name would be—" he yawned, "—Martha Leanne West-Grayson. After Bruce's mom and your sister. Get it? M-A-R from Martha and L-E-A from Leanne. Plus both of our mothers are named Mary... It fits, dont'cha think?"

Wally, who had gone very tense at the mention of his long deceased baby sister, found himself smiling down at the barely-conscious younger man. "I like it," he murmured, truthfully, before closing his eyes in thought. "But what about something like... Marley for a nickname? With a Y? Or even...Marla? It's short and sweet, just like you." He teased.

No response.

He opened his eyes and found the ebony now snoring softly into his chest, and chuckled fondly.

Ah well, they had plenty of time to discuss names in the future. Right now he was just glad that Dick was doing relatively okay, and that he was home to take care of him. Snuggling down further into the bed sheets, it wasn't long before Wally found himself drifting off as well.

Well, that was chapter one! I'm not sure whether this should be a one-shot or not. It feels kind of complete but at the same time there's quite a few more things I want to do with it. I think sick-fics are adorable, especially with Dick and Wally involved. If you enjoyed this story, please be sure to review it so I know and follow it to be told whenever it gets updated! Also, don't be afraid to tell me if you have an idea you'd like to see me include in it!