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

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!

A strange sound awoke Wally in the middle of the night.

Despite having incredibly quick perceptions and reflexes, it took an embarrassingly long time for the speedster to realize that, A) Dick was no longer next to him in bed, and B) that the weird noise that had jolted him back into consciousness was coming from the bathroom. It almost sounded like...gagging?

"Fuck!" The moment that it registered, the redhead was leaping off of the bed and zipping into the adjoining bathroom, where he found his fiancé kneeling over the toilet bowl, dry heaving and sobbing, tears running down his face while he clutched his middle section as though in pain. He was struggling to breathe through his retching and if the smell was any indication, he'd been in there a while making himself even sicker due to being so worked up.

Wally immediately dropped down beside the raven, rubbing a hand over his back calmingly and encouragingly despite Dick clearly having emptied his stomach long ago. He did his best to soothe the raven-haired young man, and when the choking finally died down a few minutes later, he reached over and flushed the toilet before helping him stand up.

"I've got you, Baby, it's okay." He murmured, supporting the young man as he rinsed his mouth out, leading him back to bed while listening to him rattle off apologies. "Dick," he spoke sharply enough that those red-rimmed blue eyes snapped up to meet soft green ones. "Stop telling me you're sorry, please. You can't control this and I'm not mad at you. Alright?" The brunette refused to respond, and he frowned, sitting down on the bed also.

The redhead put a hand on his fiancé's shoulder, "Dick?"

Once again, the younger man looked at him slowly, as if forced, like the sound of his name being spoken by Wally was impossible to ignore. "W–Why aren't you upset? I brought this on myself and...and now you have to take care of me. You should be angry." He hiccuped, shoulders trembling.

Damn it.

Wally was so used to Dick being extroverted about everything that he forgot about his tendency to bottle up the things that were really upsetting him. Unfortunately, unlike Bruce, his bottle seemed to have a limit to how much it could hold before bursting. His partner felt things in spades; so much stronger than most people. That included hurt, guilt, and insecurity...

"No." When Dick looked at him in confusion, he scooted closer on the bed and wrapped his arms around the acrobat, pulling him tightly against his body. "I don't have to take care of you, Babe. I want to. We're engaged, and I bought these rings knowing it meant I would always be here for you." He kissed the tip of his nose sweetly, "This isn't me feeling obligated. We both know you're a pain in the ass to deal with on the best of days, but I love you and wouldn't have it any other way. Understand?"

He felt the younger boy nod into his chest, noticeably relaxing, and smiled. "Good. Are you still tired?" The brunette hesitated, before nodding again, and the speedster pulled him up further on the bed so they were laying down, Dick still in his arms. He was still fevered, so they left the blankets off. "Try going back to sleep for awhile. If your stomach still hurts tomorrow I'll run out and pick up something for it at the pharmacy."

Dick sighed softly under his breath when warm, lightly buzzing hands slid up under his t-shirt and began massaging over his stomach, which actually helped quite a bit. Pretty soon he found himself being pulled back to sleep by the pleasant and soothing actions.

Whoever first said that getting sick was great had to have been smoking something really good, because Dick felt like he was very slowly going out of his mind the longer he laid in bed and did nothing. He was usually a very energetic person, and while the flu was zapping some of it out of him, he couldn't go on like this for much longer. He was agitated and restless in addition to feeling just plain shitty. Eventually he was going to snap.

He had spent the last two days screwing around on the web and browsing Netflix, plus he'd already finished his homework for the entire month, so really—all he had left to do was just curl up in a ball and wallow in his misery and self-pity.

Apparently Wally was picking up on his dejected mood, because when he came to grab the dirty dishes from breakfast (banana oatmeal), he frowned and reached out to feel his forehead, "What's wrong? Is your fever getting worse?" He asked, and the younger man wanted to squirm at the sympathy filling those deep green eyes. Not that he didn't appreciate it, but it still made him uncomfortable...

"I'm fine..." he sighed, rolling over onto his back and staring at the ceiling unhappily, "Just bored. Being sick sucks."

The Metahuman responded by laying down beside him and resting his head against the ebony's shoulder, "Aww, poor Dickie... is there anything I can do to make you feel better?" He offered, running his fingers through the younger man's silky black hair. "We could go to the living room, play some video games? I could give you a massage?"

Wally deflated slightly when his fiancé merely shook his head, burying his face in the pillow, adding a muffled, "No thank you." He got the feeling the acrobat wanted to be alone now, so he leaned over and kissed his cheek, "Okay—I'm gonna go hop in the shower then. Give a shout out if you need anything."

"Kay..." The flu-ridden man muttered, and closed his eyes to see if he could sleep his blues away, when the redhead's words registered in his mind. He turned over in bed so quickly he was surprised he didn't make himself nauseous, and caught a glimpse of the speedster's naked backside just before the bathroom door swung shut. His clothes were in a pile on the floor in the corner of the room, haphazardly tossed there after the man undressed at super speed.

Suddenly, the other hero knew exactly what it was that he needed. Something he hadn't had in nearly a month now. "Hold on a minute Wally, I think I'll join you!"

"You're such a dirty boy!"

Dick gasped sharply as he was roughly shoved up against the cold, tiled wall of the bathroom, hot water splashing over his shoulders and rolling down his back. He moaned audibly when his fiancé grinded their cocks together, feeling his body ache and tingle with the desire that was already beginning to make his blood boil.

He squirmed as wet, soapy hands ran over his nude form, spreading his legs a little when a slick finger prodded his entrance, "C–Clean me up then," he whimpered softly when Wally slowly pushed his index finger inside, passed the first ring of muscle, right up to the knuckle. Steam was quickly fogging up the room, the sound of the water spraying drowned out almost everything else.

Those lips covered his own, passionate and forceful and demanding. Amazing. It felt like fire going down his throat—way better than the painful burn he'd been experiencing lately. Knowing that his breathing capacity wasn't doing so great these days, the redhead quickly broke off and began kissing and nibbling at his neck, sucking at the collarbone hard enough to bruise.

All of the different sensations were making Dick feel lightheaded and weak at the knees, especially when his lover added a second finger, and then a third, moving them around quickly and efficiently while still taking the time to torture him in the best way possible, twisting and curling them up suddenly to stroke teasingly across his sweet spot.

"Oh! W–Wally," the brunette choked out in a broken, pleading voice, lifting himself up so he was standing on his tiptoes as the Metahuman pressed his digits even deeper and began vibrating them, using them to stretch him open wider. "Ahhhhh... God, more... Please..." He moaned desperately, attempting to grind down against the fingers for more stimulation to his prostate, but they pulled out in response, causing him to whine pathetically.

Pulling his head back, Wally stared at him with those deep green eyes glittering darkly in lust, making a thrill of excitement run through his aching body.

"Turn around," he panted breathlessly, reaching out to push away a strand of wet ebony hair that was hanging in his face, "Now."

Dick nearly shivered at the commanding voice that he used, shakily doing as he was ordered, bracing his palms and forearms flat against the slippery tiled wall. His insides were throbbing with need; the need to have something thicker and much more satisfying than fingers filling him up until he burst. His hand twitched with the urge to touch himself, but he refrained.

Judging from his behaviour so far, the lack of sex had been affecting the redhead as well. When that happened, Wally tended to get grabby and possessive. Which he loved, truth be told. He could think of only two other things that rivalled great sex: Alfred's baking (don't judge him unless you've tried it), and the gratitude and relief in someone's eyes when Nightwing helped them in some way or another.

"So beautiful to me," he heard the husky whisper come from behind him, and then Wally's body was against his, lips on the back of his neck. He felt the Metahuman position himself, and by this point they were both trembling in anticipation. "Always. You're fucking perfect, you know that?"

The compliments being panted into his ear were kind of nice, but still nothing compared to how he felt when the older male bucked his hips forward, burying himself up to the hilt with one quick push. He gave a full-bodied shudder, leaning his forehead against the cool, wet wall, suddenly finding it a lot easier to breathe despite his racing heart. Probably had something to do with the steam he'd been inhaling.

Wally's hand was massaging his right shoulder, and he eventually let out a soft sigh, smiling and giving a nonverbal cue for him to go ahead by shifting his hips slightly, biting his lower lip to stifle a cry as he felt the speedster's cock move in tandem with him. He heard the redhead hiss quietly before moving to grip his waist, then he took a deep breath, slowly withdrawing until just the tip was inside, and thrusting forward again, hard.


Oh fuck, it felt good.

Dick's jaw had gone slack as he pressed himself further up against the wall, hands flattened to the tiles but still not having anything to grip on to. He was now quivering lightly, blue eyes glazed with want. He snapped out of it when the elder of the two rocked his hips ever so smoothly, likely as payback for him doing the same thing moments ago, and he croaked out hoarsely, "M–Move...!"

The older male had one arm braced against the wall, right above Dick's head, and he grinned down at the dark-haired beauty—despite the fact that he couldn't actually see his face at the moment—even as the tight heat surrounding him threatened his self control. "Are you sure, Baby?"

He scowled, "Just fucking mov—Ahhhh!" He nearly shrieked in pleasure when Wally suddenly pulled out and then slammed back into him before taking up a rough pace. Curling his hands into fists, Dick rocked back into his movements, gasping and moaning at the deep strokes of the redhead's cock as he pumped himself in and out of the acrobat. "F–Faster, Wally!"


The brunette cried out in shock at the hard swat that landed on his ass suddenly. It stung like hell, but fuck if it didn't make him even harder. Still, it confirmed his earlier assessment about being separated making them both equally horny; Wally didn't really spank him all that much.

Another hit send a sharp burst of something up his spine, and he let out what sounded like a mix between a mewl and a sob, especially when teeth tugged at his earlobe, "You don't get to tell me what to do!" Wally growled at him, a vibration running through their bodies as he increased the pace of his rhythm, delivering another hot, stinging slap to his bottom.

Shit, shit, shit!

It felt incredible, especially with the occasional sharp bursts of pain and Dick wasn't sure how much longer he could last if the Metahuman kept it up. Already he could feel a familiar tightening in his belly, his hands were now all but clawing at the tiles as he writhed against them, consumed by lust, and feeling a whimper catch in the back of his throat when his aching member rubbed torturously up against the shower wall.

The redhead tightened his grip on his hips and sped up even more, his whole body now buzzing, making the younger boy shiver continuously, nearly screaming when his prostate was hit directly.

Oh God, he couldn't take it anymore!

"Wally," he all but begged his fiancé's name, gasping for air as his climax began rapidly approaching. But it still wasn't fast enough. "P–Please! I...I–I can't... I need—" he cut himself off with a broken moan as a familiar warm, firm hand curled around his straining erection, stroking its thumb slowly over the tip, making him squirm desperately.

A wet tongue licked at the trail of water running down the curve of his throat, "Need what?" The older male questioned, his voice a sultry purr that went straight to his cock, which he continued to slowly pump. "You need to come? Is that what you were going to say, Baby?" He gave a whimpered groan and nodded frantically.

The redhead squeezed his member and he nearly orgasmed from that alone. "I need you to say it out loud, Love, or else it doesn't count." Wally slowed his movements down, no longer thrusting, but instead settling for short, dirty grinding against Dick's sweet spot, smirking as the raven quickly started unravelling in front of him. "Beg like you really want it, Richard, and don't you dare come until I say so. Now do it!"

Dick squeezed his eyes shut, the sound of his full first name spoken like that breaking what little control over himself he had left. "Oh! Oh God! Wally! Please let me c—ahhh—come! I can't hold on much longer!" Suddenly, he was begging, crying, feeling so close to the edge that he thought he was going to go insane. His speech quickly devolved into incoherency. "Hnnnngh! Ahhhh...haaaa... Nnnnghhh..."

By now his hips were jerking forward of their own accord, his entire body shaking as he fought back against the release he so desperately wanted, whining and sobbing in need as Wally fondled him.

Just when he thought he was going to shatter completely, he heard his lover say the most beautiful words he'd ever heard, "Okay, you can let go now, Baby. I've got you." He started vibrating his hand as he pumped relentlessly at the brunette's cock, and that was more than enough to bring him over the edge. Dick gave a strangled wail as he fell to pieces in his lover's arms, white hot pleasure erupting within him, trembling violently in the aftermath.

Wally's arms curled around his body, supporting him as he gave a few more jerky thrusts into the acrobat, kissing the back of his neck and drawing gasps from him as he moved due to being highly sensitive, before he came hard inside of him with a muffled groan of pleasure. Afterwards, the speedster carefully withdrew from the quivering younger man, who was now leaning back against him, trying to regain control of his breathing. He reached for their shampoo, kissing the top of Dick's head as he so often did, "Are you still bored?" He asked in a teaseng manner.

The response was nothing less than he expected.

"...Shut up."

After the two of them (but mostly Wally) finished cleaning up from their fun in the shower, they dried off and threw on their pyjamas, ignoring the fact that it was barely one o'clock in the afternoon. Instead of doing anything productive they chose to simply veg it out on the couch for awhile and watch bad TV; bad as in "court room drama show" bad, not "Keeping Up With The Kardashians bad," they weren't completely pathetic.

At some point between the Judge Judy and Hot Bench marathons, Dick ended up falling asleep again. He wasn't sure how, considering how loud some of the fuckers on those shows could get, but since the younger man was still feeling pretty sick he didn't question it. Instead, the speedster carefully scooped his fiancé up into his arms and brought him to bed, lovingly tucking him in even though the brunette would no doubt have protested the treatment were he awake.

Since they were running low on foods and medications that they needed, Wally pulled on a sweater and some boots, pressed a handwritten note into Dick's shirt pocket, and gave him a brief kiss. Then, he ventured out of the apartment and to his car. He rarely needed to use it, but it was something he and his father had built together in their spare time during the summers when he was in high school. As Rudy had shown less interest in parenting than he had drinking since Leanne passed away, the redhead opted not to sell it but instead practice his mechanical abilities on it.

Plus it came in handy for doing things when he couldn't use his speed without drawing too much attention. The car was a 1955 Porsche 550 Spyder, a replica of the one James Dean had gotten himself killed in. Because his car was a girl (no matter what anyone said), he called it the "Little Bitch," after Dean's "Little Bastard." Of course he'd made a few alterations over the years so it was much cooler now.

Even Dick, after growing up around all of Bruce Wayne's endless collection of fast sports cars and flashy luxury vehicles, had to admit that it was a pretty badass ride to own. Especially since they'd built it practically from scratch. Everyone had been envious when he'd driven it to school his senior year. Quickly getting bored of the silence, he flicked on the radio, and was immediately greeted by the slow, boring voice of Halsey with her song "New Americana," talk about shitty music.

"Young James Dean, some say he looks just like his father, but he could never love somebody's daughter. Football team, loved more than just the game, so he vowed to be his husband at the altar..."

Pffft. What were the odds?

He flipped the radio back off and rode the rest of the way in silence.

Once arriving at the store he picked up the basic necessities—milk, butter, bread, cheese, all of that jazz. He also went to the organic health food market and bought some things he knew could be used in dishes and drinks to help sick people: oranges, lemons, limes, grapefruit, tomatoes, etc.

After that he spent about half an hour or more at the pharmacy trying to decide what medicine to get for Dick (Tylenol or Advil? Liquid cold medicine or tablets? Should he get a new thermometer or would that one mysteriously go "missing" as well?), in the end he decided to just say fuck it and buy a cornucopia of stuff; antihistamines, cough suppressants, over-the-counter antibiotics (Dick could tell him which ones wouldn't bug his allergies), eye drops, fever reducers, pain killers, nasal and chest decongestants, day and nighttime flu formulas, vitamin supplements, mouthwashes, lip balm, Melatonin, a bunch of teas that supposedly soothed the throat (though he wasn't sure the caffeine or sugar helped), VapoRub, throat lozenges, tissues, etc. He even grabbed a cool high-tech thermometer and a humidifier and dehumidifier.

In total he spent somewhere around six hundred bucks if you included all the food. Was that going overboard? Probably, but Wally didn't care. He had money saved up from various summer jobs, not to mention birthday and Christmas cash he never really spent. He was going to make damn sure his fiancé got healthy again, and he wouldn't use the shiny black credit card Bruce had given him to do it.

Yeah, Dick would probably blow a gasket if he knew, but when the Batman first fired Robin (long story; the short version was that Joker shot Rob and Bats' handled it like a massive tool), and he had become Nightwing to make his own mark, things hadn't initially gone well. Economy was shit in Blüdhaven and he'd quickly used up whatever his parents had left him. Wally had figured out he was in a bind and had dropped everything immediately, he'd decided to move in as a roommate to help take a bit of the strain off, since the kid refused to take handouts or even loans from anybody.

Well, being best friends and exes in the same living quarters got interesting real fast, and he and Dick had found themselves going from "roommates" to "friends with benefits" to just "benefits." Oh, sure, they'd been on and off a few times in those three years and at one point it seemed like there was no hope for them, but they'd taken the risk and gotten back together for the fiftieth or so time. One last chance, they had both bluffed, knowing it would never really be over for good. Six months later, Wally had popped the question. By accident. In the middle of kinky sex. Yeah...

That was about two years ago, and they had been going strong ever since. But living on your own was expensive when they were both in post-secondary school and working as vigilantes at night. Somehow Alfred got wind of this and started "loaning" them money. It was "loaning" because the old man made it clear if they ever tried to bring up repayment he would hit them both with the big wooden spoon hanging in the manor's kitchen.

Eventually, long after Bruce and Dick finally pulled their heads out of their asses, someone let it slip about the financial problems they'd been having, and Alfred's generosity (he suspected it was Tim). The big guy had pulled Wally aside during some disastrous meal—that was before they'd officially announced the engagement, and slipped him the thin black rectangular piece of plastic. He never spoke, but the expression said it all: You'd better take good care of my little boy.

The week after that their asshole slum lord magically had a change of heart about cutting them loose from their rental agreement early. They moved into a slightly bigger two-bedroom apartment. It was in a better complex (and safer neighborhood in general), and they also had visitors semi-frequently. Damian had stayed once after a falling out with his father and they had offered him a place to spend a few nights if he ever needed to clear his head. Tim dropped by occasionally when business with W.E. and the Teen Titans (who were basically the sequel to the Young Justice team) was getting to be too much.

Even Jason had popped by a couple of times. Granted, one time was to threaten to cut off Wally's man parts if he ever hurt his brother and the other time was when he'd been shot in back multiple times and needed help, but still... his future in laws really weren't so bad (he especially liked Cass, Babs, Kate, Bette and Steph—it was nice having women around who wouldn't take any shit from their male counterparts just because they were attractive). They were crazy as fuck, but he liked to look on the bright side of things.

Though, Bruce still wasn't too fond of him... That was probably mostly Wally's fault. How would you react to finding out, on your adoptive kid's sixteenth birthday, that he'd lost his virginity when he was just thirteen to a guy more than two years older? Oh well. At least their announcement about being engaged showed them all they were honestly serious about their feelings for each other.

Speaking of which, he currently had a fiancé at home feeling like crap, whom he was eager to get back to.

Except there was one teeny tiny little problem...

"Honey, I'm hoooooome!"

Wally grinned to himself as he kicked the door shut with the heel of his boot after fetching the final bag of what would soon be their new personal apothecary. "I think I got something—err, well, several somethings, that might make you feel better!" The speedster headed to the bedroom, his arms full of stuff. "Do you prefer spraying Otrivin or Neo-Synephrine up your nose? Also, while we're on the topic of noses, I got two different tissues—there's the Kleenex with Vicks lotion in it, or the one with Vitamin E and Aloe Vera. Which do you...Dick?"

The sight of an empty bed filled Wally with apprehension, and admittedly he probably would have gone to check if Nightwing's suit was still in its proper place if a strained whimper hadn't caught his attention. He set his bags down on the floor and investigated, heart stuttering in concern when he found his fiancé curled up on the bathroom floor, shivering. "Dick!"

He quickly knelt down beside the brunette and took his face in his hands, and the heat radiating from his skin was immediately noticeable, "Baby, you're burning up." He murmured as the brunette continued to shake with the chills he was experiencing, no doubt due to the fever currently making its way through his body. The foul odor immediately told him that, most likely, Dick had needed to throw up and by the time he was finished doing so he felt too weak to get up and go back to bed. Had he fallen asleep on the floor?

"...I don't feel good..." The former Boy Wonder slurred as Wally scooped him up and carefully stood, cradling his partner in his arms as he walked back to their room, laying him down on the soft sheets. The speedster stroked his hair and assured him he'd make him feel better, returning to the bathroom to get a washcloth dipped in nice cool water, using it to dab the sweat off of his face before laying it across his forehead.

Next, the redhead grabbed a fresh bottle of water from the fridge and popped open a bottle of ibuprofen, making Dick swallow down two of the little tablets (after carefully reading all of the print on the package and the warning paper inside of it), managing to coax him by promising it would make him feel a lot better. Which, it would, hopefully. At the very least he wouldn't feel like he was roasting alive anymore.

Sitting down next to his betrothed, Wally, briefly held Dick's hand, smiling in a worried way, "You're going to be okay, Babe, I promise. We've got plenty of supplies now so I'm not leaving you again until you're feeling one hundred percent better." He murmured, and the acrobat gave a soft snore in response.


Ah well, sleeping was probably the best thing for him at the moment.

Wally got up and put away his purchases, looking into what he could make his lover to eat that wouldn't be too difficult to keep down. Maybe he could call and ask Alfred? That man was a Godsend when it came to food, and pretty much everything else too. Although, word would likely get around to the rest of Wayne Manor's residents if he did that, and the last thing he wanted was Bruce or Damian (the protective little demon he was) forcing him to take Dick to Gotham because they didn't think he was capable of handling the situation.

Of course, the older male would do that if it was in Dick's best interest, but he seemed to be doing a pretty good job so far. Hopefully it stayed that way. Taking care of him would be a trial run for when they were actually married. Unlike the brunette, Wally wasn't entirely sure if he wanted to be a crimefighter for the rest of his life. People like Nightwing thrived off of rescuing others.

As selfish as it was, he could see himself quitting the life just to live happily ever after with Dick. They'd earned, hadn't they? It was something to think about... Marriage, children, a nine-to-five career. That was the dream for him, although the reality was likely him taking over as the Flash, at least until Bart was old enough to do it. Still, the future was looking bright.

The sudden sound of a hacking cough made up Wally's mind on what to get his partner for supper. Hot chicken noodle soup was awesome when you felt sick, doubly so if your throat felt like you'd been swallowing stake knives for the past few days. However, maybe giving him something like that when he was feverish wasn't so smart.

Instead, he'd utilize the fresh fruit he'd bought and make a nice, cold, healthy smoothie. He was sure Dick would enjoy it, since it would require minimal effort on his part to eat—he'd just give him a straw so he wouldn't even need to sit up! It was perfect.

Hang in there, Rob, I'll get you healthy yet.

So... I'm thinking of having this story turn into an Mpreg one, or at the very least writing a story after this one, possibly a sequel, that involves that. Your thoughts? I won't do it if the idea bothers you, since I never had Mpreg as an initial warning and it wouldn't be fair to the few followers I have to change it two chapters in. Be sure to let me know what you think of that, anyways!

If I did write one it would probably be the result of magic being used as a punishment by their enemies or just some freaky biological miracle.