batman · dc comics · nightwing pov · brotherhood · vulnerable · nightmare · comfort · young justice · angst · family
The silence in the room was heavy, a thick residue left in the wake of a mental storm. Damian lay rigid against Dick’s chest, the blanket pulled tight like armor. Dick’s arms were a steady, warm weight around him, his breathing deep and rhythmic. Unmoving. Asleep. Damian stared blankly at the wall, the phantom images of his nightmare still flashing behind his eyes—blood, failure, fear. He had shot upright in bed, heart hammering, but Dick had appeared in the doorway moments later, messy-haired and soft-eyed, offering only a quiet 'Scoot.' Damian hadn’t argued. Now, an hour later, the panic had receded, replaced by the overwhelming, hated comfort of his brother’s presence. Dick’s arm was tucked under Damian’s neck, the other resting protectively over his side. Damian’s fing…