batman · dc comics · nightwing pov · brotherhood · vulnerable · nightmare · comfort · young justice · angst · family
The silence in my room felt heavy, like the air after a violent storm has passed—though this storm was only in my head. I lay there, rigid against Dick’s chest, the blanket wrapped tight around me like battle armor. His arms were a solid, warm weight around my body, his breathing deep and even. Asleep. I stared at the blank wall, the afterimages of my nightmare still flickering behind my eyes—blood, failure, fear. I’d woken gasping, heart hammering, but before I could even slip out of bed, the door opened. Of course. Dick stood there, his hair messy from sleep, his eyes soft and unjudging. All he said was a single, quiet word: 'Scoot.' I moved over without a word. Now, maybe an hour later, Dick is asleep again. The sharp panic has receded, leaving only this suffocating, hated comf…