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Nightmares were common in Wayne Manor.
Alfred had them the most sparingly, but Tim had bumped into him in the kitchen enough times to know that they affected him. Dick would go around to each person after a nightmare, checking on them as they slept, and occasionally waking them as he crawled into their bed. Bruce, on the other hand, never woke himself up from a nightmare. He would scream until it woke up the whole house.
Tim usually stayed in his room after waking up. Either that, or he silently went to the kitchen to make a hot drink or grab a soda. That was what he did when he still lived in Drake Manor. Why change the pattern now?
Well. Tonight’s nightmare was different. Tim’s toes were cold on the family wing’s hallway of hardwood floor. He wasn’t wearing any socks.
He had woken up, shot out of bed, and immediately stumbled his way over to Bruce’s door. The terror that his nightmare made him relive wasn’t the normal, I-am-a-vigilante-with-unresolved-trauma nightmare. Tim went before he even thought about it.
Bruce wasn’t here. Tim logically knew that, but his first instinct was to run to Batman. All Robins needed that instinct, even if it happened to bleed into their civilian lives.
Tim should feel guilty about that. Bruce didn’t need his placeholder Robin to lean on him so heavily. Tim’s original purpose was to act as a crutch to Batman, to make sure he didn’t get himself killed. Who was Tim to take that place in the family when he wasn’t even originally wanted?
Tim hesitated. He considered going into Bruce’s bedroom anyway. Bruce had been making great strides lately, so surely he wouldn’t mind if Tim slipped into his empty room for a bit. Maybe curling up in the giant bed, surrounded by Bruce’s smell, would help quell the terror rushing through Tim’s veins.
No. No, that wouldn’t help for this kind of nightmare. Tim’s problem wasn’t just that he felt like he would never be safe again—he couldn’t get the image of Dick bloodied on the pavement out of his mind. He had seen Dick hurt before, of course, but there was something visceral about tonight. Or, last night, depending on how early it was now.
Maybe it had something to do with the fact that Dick had still been muttering Jason’s name when Tim found him. In the dream, the sword wasn’t in Dick’s gut, but his chest. The Jason of the nightmare wasn’t nearly as forgiving as the real one.
Tim thought he was over the fear of finding Dick like that. Once he found it was Jason who did it, Tim had rationalized Jason’s actions and pushed the terror to the side. Awake-Tim was comfortable enough with Jason. The man had enough opportunity to kill both Dick and Tim, yet he refrained. Tim thought the conversation he had with Jason was enough to silence those lingering doubts. Asleep-Tim apparently had more subconscious digging to do.
He moved to the threshold of Dick’s room instead, creaking the door open just a crack.
He watched as Dick’s chest moved up and down. The man was splayed out on his back, limbs going every direction, the perfect picture of deep sleep. Each rise of his chest was another indication that Dick was alive. Each exhale was proof that Jason hadn’t committed fratricide.
The act of monitoring Dick’s breathing should have been enough to calm Tim down, but it wasn’t working. Not completely. Sure, something vicious and primal in his mind had begun to quiet down, but Tim’s chest was heaving with each laborious breath. He still didn’t feel like he was getting quite enough air. After a death dream like that, Tim should have barged into the room and crawled up next to Dick already. That’s what Dick would have done if he were in Tim’s place.
Dreams where Tim was absolutely useless were always the worst.
But Dick needed all the sleep he could get. Tim focused on how high Dick’s chest rose with each inhale. He was still breathing too shallow. His body didn’t want to put any undue stress on his abdomen. His face was still screwed up in discomfort, not getting an reprieve even in sleep.
Tim absolutely should not wake Dick up. Deep sleep was essential to the healing process, after all. Not only that, but today had been more than draining for Dick. The man had emotional blow after emotional blow hit him from all sides. First he found out his little brother was alive, had to accept the fact Jason was a murder now, then got stuck with a sword by that same brother. Then Tim had sent him into a worried panic by not responding to him for hours.
Tim would be fine. He didn’t need to worry Dick any more than he already had today. Seeing Dick alive and resting should have been enough to calm Tim down. He didn’t need to hear Dick’s voice or feel his heartbeat.
He pressed his fingers against his own throat as Dick moved his head in his sleep. Tim’s heart rate had not decreased at all since he started standing here.
Okay. So. Maybe watching Dick sleep really wouldn’t be enough. Every time that Tim closed his eyes, all he could see was the blood.
Tim crept into the room with all the stealth he could muster. Dick stirred, so Tim stopped moving. He stayed still until Dick settled again, then continued to move into the room like a ghost. He forced his stuttering breathing to quiet, no matter how hard each breath was.
All he wanted to do was sit next to Dick. That would be enough. All he needed was to hear Dick breathing. That would help dismiss the nightmare of hearing that breathing stop.
Tim managed to get himself settled on the floor next to Dick’s bed. He curled his legs up against his torso, wrapping his arms around them and pillowing his head on his knees.
Dick’s head was close to Tim’s, sitting like this. He could clearly hear each inhale and exhale. Tim’s heart rate began to slow now that he could hear the evidence of Dick’s life instead of only seeing it.
This was enough. Tim didn’t need to hear Dick’s voice or get one of his hugs. He could sit here for a bit until he calmed down, then leave before the man even knew he was here. Everything would be fine.
“Tim?” Dick’s sleepy voice slithered into Tim’s ear. He groaned, burrowing his head further into his knees. He didn’t need to be awake yet. He was so tired. “Tim, buddy.”
Dick’s hand jostled Tim’s shoulder. Tim’s eyes shot open, realizing with a jolt what was happening. Tim was still sitting on Dick’s floor, leaned up against his bed. Sunlight was filtering in through Dick’s blinds. Dick was leaned over the bed a bit, hand on Tim’s shoulder, worried expression on his face.
“Uh,” Tim muttered. He shifted, cranking his neck side to side before meeting Dick’s eyes. It ached something terrible from sleeping in such a weird position. “Hi.”
Dick’s worried face turned into a sympathetic smile. “Whatcha doing on the floor there, bud?”
“Nothing.” Tim immediately shot back. He shrugged Dick’s hand off of his shoulder, then stretched his legs out on the floor. They also were sore from being curled up against his chest for hours.
“I don’t think sleeping on my floor is nothing, baby bird,” Dick shifted to sit upward, then swung his legs off the side of the bed. He grunted as he moved, but clearly was trying his best to stay quiet. “Why didn’t you wake me up?”
Tim leaned up against Dick’s legs as subtly as he could. “I didn’t want to bother you. You needed to sleep.”
“Oh, Tim,” Dick pressed his palm onto Tim’s head, entangling his fingers in the boy’s hair. Tim couldn’t help but press into the warmth of it. “You never need to worry about that. You can always wake me up.”
“But you’re injured,” Tim tried to explain himself. “And yesterday was a lot. I was fine. I mean, I fell asleep again just fine eventually.”
“Yeah, sure. But how long were you sitting there awake?” Dick moved his fingers in soothing circles.
Tim almost forgot that he needed to be the strong one right now. He forced his softness down with a heavy gulp. “Doesn’t matter. Everything is fine.”
Dick sighed and removed his hand from Tim’s head. Tim choked on the whine that threatened to leave his throat at the sudden lack of contact. Then Dick’s legs were moving away, and Tim couldn’t keep the sound in anymore.
Why was Dick leaving? No, that was a stupid question. Of course, Tim had pushed him away from being too obtrusive. That was technically the outcome that Tim had wanted. He didn’t want Dick to be concerned about him. Dick removing his comforting hand was just a logical consequence of Tim’s statements.
Tim turned around to face the bed, watching as Dick pulled his legs back up onto it. Dick situated his pillows and laid back down, propped up now instead of lying completely horizontal.
“What are you doing?” Tim couldn’t help but ask, tilting his head to the side as he scrutinized the scene.
Dick patted the bed on his good side, then opened his arm up in invitation. “Come on up here. You shouldn’t be sitting on the floor for any longer.”
Tim hesitated. He looked from Dick’s face to the wound in his other side. “Are you sure?”
Dick merely laughed and beckoned Tim closer with his still-raised hand. “Yes, I’m sure, twerp. A little bird like you isn’t going to hurt me.”
That was all the reassurance that Tim needed. Slowly, as to not shock his still tingling limbs, Tim rose and climbed up onto the bed. It was a butchering of graceful movement. Tim had been sitting on the floor for much to long to move fluidly.
Dick’s smile turned softer as Tim crawled over to him. When Tim finally closed the distance between the two of them, Dick bodily manipulated Tim so that Tim’s head was pillowed on Dick’s chest. He wrapped the arm that was outstretched across Tim’s back, then curled his other over his own body so that he could play with Tim’s hair again.
All of the tension that had accumulated in Tim’s muscles melted away in a few breaths. Situated like this, he could clearly hear each thump thump of Dick’s heartbeat.
Dick was okay. He was injured, but he wasn’t dying. Tim had gotten there in time, and stitched Dick up to keep his insides on the inside. Jason hadn’t stabbed anything vital—a minor miracle, missing so many organs in the abdomen—and had left the sword so Dick wouldn’t bleed out.
There was no death or dying. There was no brother killing his brother. There was only Tim and Dick, cuddling in the warm morning, with no blood to be seen.
Tim let out a giant sigh, sinking deeper into Dick’s embrace. He didn’t care that Dick wasn’t wearing a shirt; if anything, that made his warmth even closer. He could forgive the man’s smell, too, because that just meant that he was alive.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Dick’s voice was a hair’s breath above a whisper.
Tim closed his eyes and listened to Dick’s heart. He felt each breath on his hair as it left Dick’s lungs. “Jason killed you.”
Dick’s breathing stuttered, as did the hand carefully smoothing through Tim’s hair. He recovered soon enough, but this close to him, Tim noticed. “That didn’t happen, baby bird. I’m okay.”
“I know,” Tim said with his exhale. Each beat of Dick’s heart under Tim’s ear was an echo of those words. “I know that. I can feel that.”
“Jason won’t get me,” Dick continued. “I mean, we have his sword now. That won’t happen again, little brother.”
“What if no one gets Jason?” Tim muttered so softly he wondered if he said it aloud at all. The warmth was making his eyes heavy. “He’s not as bad as… well, the dream. He still has good in him. I saw it… He just needs someone to remind him of it.”
Dick breathed so heavily that it made Tim’s head jerkily rise. Tim curled deeper into Dick, squishing his legs against his brother’s. Dick lifted his leg off the bed so that Tim could cram his own underneath it.
“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it,” Dick eventually settled on. He shifted underneath Tim to lay them down a bit farther. All the while, his hand continued to fiddle with Tim’s hair. “For now, let’s just sleep a bit more, yeah?”
“It’s already… morning,” Tim tried to argue, but he let Dick move him as he liked. He was boneless against the warmth radiating off of his new human pillow. Tim’s eyes barely stayed open after each blink. “We need to—”
“You said I needed it, didn’t you?” Dick cut him off. He yawned so loud and long that Tim knew it was definitely fake. Or at the very least, highly exaggerated. “I don’t know about you, but I’m still exhausted.”
Tim slowly chucked into Dick’s chest. He was fighting a loosing battle. He didn’t actually want to get up yet, too comfortable in his brother’s embrace. “Fine. But you’ll… wake me up? When you… actually get up?”
“Mhm, of course, baby bird.” Dick said. It sounded like a promise and a lie all rolled into one. The time between each of Tim’s exhales was getting longer and longer. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”
Tim nodded against Dick one last time, satisfied. Dick started humming something under his breath. The harmony of Dick’s warm vibration, breath, and heartbeat finally pulled Tim back under.
Dick would be okay. They would get Jason back. And maybe, Tim would be okay too.