Pairing: Tony/Tim

Warnings: Slash, the stomach flu

Author's Notes: Written for MissFlapjack. Feel better soon, dear! Review, loves!

Tony grimaced as he woke up to the sound of someone throwing up in the bathroom. "Timmy, you okay in there?"

More vomiting was apparently the only answer he was going to get. He sighed and got out of bed, tugging on his jeans from the floor. He poked his head into the bathroom, wincing as he caught sight of Tim on his knees in front of the porcelain god. He walked in and grabbed a wash cloth from the cabinet and held it underneath the faucet, flicking on the water. He squeezed the excess water from the cloth and held it out to Tim who took it and wiped his face with it.

"Thanks." Tim croaked, voice hoarse and scratchy.

"You're welcome. Think you're done now?" Tony asked, leaning over Tim to flush the toilet.

"For the moment." Tim allowed himself to be pulled gently to his feet. He leaned against the sink, brushing his teeth and rinsing his mouth out with mouthwash. Tony led him gently back into the bedroom and helped him lay down on the bed.

"So what brought this on?" Tony asked, sitting down on the bed next to Tim and rubbing his back.

"I think I caught the bug that Abby and Jimmy had a few weeks ago." Tim groaned, laying back and closing his eyes, the damp cloth pressed against his throat.

"Well, if that's the case, McUpchuck, then there's only one day of this to deal with." Tony said brightly. Tim merely glared at him.

"You need anything? I'll go pick you up some Pepto Bismal from the store." Tony offered, looking concerned.

"No, just the medicine, thanks." Tim smiled weakly at Tony, who kissed his forehead and walked out of the apartment.

Thirty minutes later, Tony unlocked the door to the apartment, carrying a plastic bag with the Pepto and a can of chicken noodle soup in it. Sure, the canned stuff wasn't as good as his own recipe, but Tony doubted that Tim had all the ingredients necessary to make it. He'd just have to settle for the can.

He brought the medicine to a dozing Tim, making him swallow a huge capful of it. "I'll go make your soup now."

"Soup? What soup?" Tim asked, looking confused.

"Everyone knows that when you have any kind of sickness, nothing cures it faster than chicken noodle soup. Or a spoonful of sugar." Tony winked at him and went back into the kitchen.

A few minutes later, he was back, carrying a steaming bowl of soup, a glass of water, and some crackers on a tray. He waited until Tim had sat up before placing the tray carefully across his knees. "It's not as good as my original recipe, but it'll do, I suppose."

Tim laughed and blew on a spoonful, sipping at it slowly. "This is good. Thanks, Tony. It means a lot that you'd do this for me."

"Well, why wouldn't I? I expect you to do the same if I ever got sick. Which I won't. I never get sick." Tony smirked at him.

Tim rolled his eyes and continued eating. Surprisingly, his stomach was in approval of the soup and crackers. For now anyway.

When Tim was finished, Tony took the tray back into the kitchen, placing it on the counter by the sink. He sat back down on the bed with Tim and stroked his hair.

"Feel any better?" He asked softly.

"Yeah, thanks again for all of this." Tim smiled at him.

"You're welcome. Love you." Tony kissed him gently.

"Love you too." Tim said, returning Tony's kiss.

Tim wasn't entirely surprised when he woke up the next morning not with Tony beside him, but on his knees in the bathroom. Looked like it was time for him to return the favor.