Dick had a pounding headache. It had started sometime during his shift, and was edging on a migraine. All he wanted to do was go home, fall on his bed, and sleep for years. Nothing seemed to help.
When Dick limped through the door, he dropped his bag and collapsed on his bed, curling under the covers. He still had laundry to do, and the dishes needed to be done, but he couldn't bother himself with getting up. His headache was killing him.
He drifted off at one point, getting some relief from the pounding in his brain. Sometimes his mind wandered to the chores he had, but he quickly forgot them. He just needed a break at the moment, or he'd start sprouting grays again. At least, that's what it felt like.
When Dick woke up, the sun was starting to set. His head wasn't as bad, and he felt better. He sat up, stretching and yawning. A kiss was placed on his cheek, arms wrapping around his waist. "Feeling better?" Wally asked. "Yeah. How did you know?" "One, you were in bed when I came home. Two, I felt your forehead, and felt it pulsing. Migraine?" "Pretty much." "Better now?" "Yeah. I've got to get some stuff done." Dick smiled, trying to stand.
"If you mean the laundry and dishes, I took care of those. You were so tired, and I had nothing to do. I stead of doing something dumb and possibly waking you, I did chores that kept me busy. Dishes are washed and put up, while the clothes have been washed, dried, and folded up. I was about to start on dinner." "How about I do dinner, and you watch?" "Sounds good. You sure you're up for it?" "Yeah. I'm sure." "Alright then. To dinner, it is."
