[Email Log: Dick/Tim]
A week of healing isn't sufficient for some wounds. Tim tries to fly solo before his wings are fully healed and big brother has to catch him when he falls.
1 am, Saturday, November 15
Tim sat bolt upright in his bed, cold sweat dripping down his spine, a strangled cry in his throat, every muscle screaming from being clenched so tight. For a few seconds, all he could do was gasp and shake, trying to slow his racing heart from battering against his ribcage, filling his ears with rushing blood. He didn't need a mirror to know he was sheet white. Didn't need to touch his own skin to know that he was cold as marble.
He couldn't help thinking of his last nightmare. Of walking up with Dick to soothe and comfort. But that had been three days ago. He was alone, with just the moonlight and the sluggish wind moving the curtain. It was better this way. He needed to learn how to do this again--face the nightmares, beat the fear, push back the grief. He couldn't rely on Dick for everything. He had to succeed or fail on his own.
Dick's been sleeping lightly, listening for nightmares from all corners of the Treehouse. Roy's doing better. Jill's skill at repression comes close to rivaling Tim's. And Bart...he's not sleeping soundly enough to dream. He's awake from Tim's first whimper, and across the common room before Tim pulls himself awake, not bothering to throw on a shirt. He pauses outside the door to make sure Tim's actually awake before letting himself in.
Leaning in the doorway, arms crossed loosely over his chest, he surveys the situation. Finds Tim sitting up, tense and gasping for breath. Eyes wide and terrified. Shaking. Instinct screams to go to him. Now. But Tim's a Bat first and foremost. There's an art to this. "Couldn't sleep," he says quietly. I'm here. "Thought I'd see how you were doing." I've got you.
"Very subtle," Tim returned, still looking forward toward the window. His heart was still beating fast, but his breath was starting to steady. "It was a nightmare, Dick. Just something that scared me, not something that hurt me." He turned his head and looked at Dick, face bloodless, eyes dark. "You can't come running in every time I have one. You'll never get any sleep if you do that."
He can and he will. "I did it for years with the Titans. Can't see why you should be any different," Dick answers, confident, calm, and reassuring. He's not watching Tim's pulse jump in the curve of his throat. Really. And he's definitely not thinking about soothing it with the flat of his tongue. Right, Grayson. "And I wouldn't have to come running if I was sleeping in here with you."
Tim's jaw clenched. "We're not having this talk. I'm going back to sleep now. You should do the same." He couldn't have him this close. Tim had an enormous amount of willpower but not when it came to Dick. Not when he had to hold himself together still, remember how to do this on his own.
He should respect Tim's refusal. He should, but he's not going to. Not when he can see Tim's heart slamming against his ribcage. And not when he knows all he has to do to make it stop is get Tim to let him stay. "Good idea," he answers, and arches out of his lean to go sit at the near edge of Tim's bed.
Tim's eyes widened, his hands clenched the sheet. "What are you doing?"
Dick hides a grin. It's not funny, except in all the ways that it is. "Sleeping. I'm tired and I don't feel like walking home."
Tim's eyes narrowed down again, "Dick, your room is twenty feet away. It's not on the second island." He took a deep breath, pushed himself back against the wall that served as the headboard, "You don't have to sleep in my bed. It's not necessary. I'm fine."
"I know I don't have to. I know you're fine." He's not. He's the farthest thing from fine. Now that he's up close, he can almost see the tension vibrating off Tim. Dick wraps a hand around Tim's ankle, steadying him even though he doesn't want it. "I want to. I like being here when you need me."
His mouth pressed into a thin line. Dick got beneath his skin too easily. "We all get nightmares. There's only one of you. You can't sleep with all of us." He was looking at Dick's hand on his ankle, not at Dick's face. He didn't know what he'd see there and didn't want to know what Dick would see in his. He was afraid that it would be the clawing need inside him. The fear that if Dick left, he'd be leaving for good. Tim knew that he could hold on too hard. So he was trying to avoid holding on at all. "I have to learn how to do this for myself again. It's been a week."
When Tim doesn't jerk his ankle away, Dick knows he's doing the right thing. Not that he really doubted it, but there's always that moment with Tim where it could go wrong. Send him screaming off into his Bat-armor, shutting Dick out completely. "You come first." His voice is quiet and low in the dark room, soothing. "You always come first." Before Roy. Definitely before the others. In a lot of ways even before Bruce. His thumb works a slow circle around the ball of Tim's ankle bone. There's a lot of ways he could answer Tim, but only one that will cut through everything to get to the heart of it. "Would you want me to be alone if I'd been dreaming about Blockbuster?"
Tim managed not to flinch, but only barely and the resulting tension hummed through his body. "No, of course not. That's not the point though, Dick. I just broke up with Bart and with what happened the other night, I..." Tim's jaw snapped shut with an audible click, biting his words off before they could continue to betray him. He pulled his ankle away, leaned forward over his bent knees and stared firmly at the window again.
Of course. Dick wants to shake him for being an idiot. If he thought it would help... it might, broad daylight, but right now, Tim needs comfort and sleep. In exactly that order. He shakes his head instead of Tim, rolling the tension out of his neck. "What happened the other night happened because we both wanted it to. Both of us." There's a sharp snap to his tone, one part anger and one part fear that maybe Tim didn't. Maybe he forced it. Maybe... don't touch me. I'm filthy. But he knows better. He does. "It was bound to happen. We couldn't go on wanting each other forever and not acting on it. But it doesn't have to happen again if you don't want it. I promise." And he never breaks his promises to Tim. Never.
"It can't happen again. There's no reason to regret it but it can't happen again," Tim said, still not looking at Dick. His stomach was a quivering mess and his pulse was picking back up. It was hard to breathe just thinking about the one night they'd had. He'd told himself that he would be okay with one time, one night. Just solving a mutual need. He was going to be practical about this. It shouldn't have been this hard to remember that. "I can make it through the nightmares, Dick. I don't know if I can face another...whatever this is."
Why not? His chest tightens, more than it should. The urge to pin Tim and make him say 'no' when they're pressed together, hard and wanting...it's so strong it makes him nauseated. He can't. He won't. He's never going to make it hard for Tim to say no about sex. Not ever.
He shouldn't give up, not while Tim's actually talking. But his words sting and Dick's not like Tim and Bruce, he can ignore how he feels when there's a need, but he can't shut it off. It'd be so easy to go back to bed by way of Roy's room. Tell Roy he can't sleep and let Roy work out the rest...
One last effort and then he's going to bed. Alone. "This..." Is right person, right place, right time. "Is me taking care of my family. Why are you so afraid to let me love you?"
Tim wanted to curl small, cover his head with his arms, feed everything into the pearl and just...vanish. Maybe then it would hurt less. Maybe then he could give everyone all the different chunks they needed of him and this terror that he'd lose them all would go away. He controlled the impulse but not before it sent a shiver of dread down his spine. Why was he so afraid to let Dick love him? Tim had no idea where to begin answering that.
He was afraid that being loved by Dick would finish what breaking up with Bart had started. He was afraid that he'd need more than Dick wanted to give and he knew that Dick would deny him nothing. He was afraid of failing. Afraid that Dick's love was Dick's duty. That it was caring for family and Tim's family was dead. Tim wasn't even sure that Dick loving him was the worst part of it.
"In the nightmare...I was going to the clinic. That didn't happen, I didn't even know about it. No one called me." His words were halting, like he had to grope after every one for the point he was trying to make. "But in the dream, I made it to the clinic. And it didn't matter. It was still too late. And they told me that there was nothing anyone could have done." He scrubbed his hands over his face, pushed them into his hair. "That's what he told me. And then I had to go back to work."
And Tim wants him to go? After that, it would take more than an order from Bruce to make him leave. Dick crawls across the bed to Tim, heart in his throat. He remembers. God, he remembers what it was like the days and weeks after Stephanie and Jack. It's not about him or sex or anything but wanting to wrap Tim up in his arms and make that go. away.
Kneeling next to Tim, Dick reaches out. Runs a hand over his hair. He can't tell Tim he'll never leave him. He could die. The island could take him right now - but it's going to have to take him fighting for all he's worth. He can't tell Tim that it'll never hurt to be in love or he'll never fail. How can he, when Dick's nightmares are all always about not being good enough, fast enough, smart enough? "Tim..." It's choked with emotion, thick with the tears Tim won't shed. "I can't change what happened. I can be here now." Let me be here now.
Tim's eyes burned with anguish too intense for tears. He looked at Dick steadily, still as a stone. It wasn't calm. Tim hadn't really been calm since he woke up. "I have to be able to go on, Dick. If I stop..." The soft whisper of his confession broke off and he shook his head. If he let Dick love him, he'd fall apart. No matter how soft the landing, from this height, he'd shatter.
If he stops, he'll grieve. If he doesn't, he'll become everything he's terrified of being. There's nothing he can say that's going to make this better. Not a damned thing. The hand not on Tim's head clenches into a fist, looking for something to hit. The hand on Tim's head softens, slides through Tim's hair. He can't let Tim skate away forever. He can give him a few more nights of peace. "We don't have to talk about it anymore tonight."
No more talking but Dick was too close to him for that to mean he was planning on leaving. And Tim was exhausted, too exhausted to fight anymore. Instead, he nodded mutely and shifted over on the bed to give Dick more room, trusting he'd read that right. Parts of him were still scared. Parts of him still wanted to weep. Parts of him were grateful that Dick had ignored him, fought him. It was all a mixed up knot of emotion in his stomach. Tim closed his eyes.
His relief is palpable, from the sigh to the slow drag of his fingers down Tim's shoulder before he settles onto the bed beside him. He won't force Tim to come to him. Instead, he reaches across the space between them for Tim's hand, coils his fingers around his wrist then pushes his thumb into Tim's palm. I've got you.
Tim exhaled with a shudder that wanted to be a sob but didn't pull his hand away. He knew how this one ended. In the morning, when they woke, Dick would be wrapped around him, close as he could be. Tim would be tangled up in him, clinging close like Dick was his only lifeline. Dick holding his hand was just a promise of that.
After fifteen years of being the only person Bruce really trusts, Dick knows how important 'breathing space' is when Bruce has yielded. He needs to nurse his pride and pretend that coming over to Dick's side of an argument is his idea. It's identical with Tim and the sides of the bed. As long as he doesn't fuss over Tim now, he'll be curled into Dick by morning.
---4 am---
Sleep sucked Tim down and he managed another few hours of sleep before a nightmare caught him in its maw and tossed him around before spitting him back out. He awoke abruptly but not hard enough to jolt. He found himself, as he'd predicted would happen, wrapped firmly around Dick, half-lying on top of him, their legs tangled, his mouth pressed into Dick's shoulder. His internal clock told him that it was still several hours shy of dawn and a quick check of Dick's breathing said he was still fast asleep. For a moment, Tim considered getting up. Meditating or reading. Or even just moving away and regaining his distance before he got too tangled in this to get back out.
Dick's skin was cooler than usual, body temperatures dropped while you slept, but under Tim's fingers it felt soft and warm. Vitally alive in a way that he needed after the nightmare. Tim decided to stay. While Dick slept, there was no risk. This could just be a comfort and he could keep his thoughts in line. Adjusting his hold, Tim shifted against Dick, finding his heartbeat beneath his ribcage and laying his hand over it. The slow, steady, constant rhythm brought a smile to his mouth and he closed his eyes again to concentrate on it.
Asleep, but not deeply enough not to rouse for any threat or recurrence of Tim's nightmares, Dick's brain registers Tim's whimpers. His body tenses with Tim's and relaxes again when Tim claws his way awake. He's loved too many people, slept with too many not to be aware of the small shifts of Tim's body that bring him closer or the flat of his hand sliding against Dick's abdomen. Smiling in his half-sleep, Dick runs his hand down Tim's spine with the slow fits and starts of someone mostly asleep, and tucks his fingers into Tim's sleep pants just above his hip. His breathing never changes, and there's nothing to say for sure that he'd been awake at all.
Tim's breath caught when Dick moved, afraid he'd woken him, then hitched again at the sleepy, grazing touch. Once Dick had settled back into sleep though, it was easy to relax. His mouth brushed Dick's shoulder, not quite a kiss or a claim, just inhaling the scent of Dick's skin. It was simple then to just tumble back into a light doze that deepened gradually into true sleep again.
---5:15 am, Sunday, November 16---
His eyes open before he realizes he's awake, but he doesn't move. Bat habit - don't give away your position without securing it. Dick habit - don't wake a sleeping partner if you can cuddle with them instead. The angle of the light and his internal clock tell him if he leaves in five minutes he'll make his pre-dawn run with Alcuin. But Tim's still soundly asleep and octopused around him closer than sex. Tim doesn't need to be out of bed for another thirty-five minutes.
Sorry, Alcuin. Alcuin will run without him. Dick will find him later to apologize. Of all people, Alcuin will understand.
Slowly, mimicing sleeping movements as close as he can, Dick moves one hand up into Tim's hair behind his head which is on his chest. The other returns to where he'd had it several hours ago when he'd half-woken to soothe Tim back to sleep. It's a seduction...not for sex but for snuggling. Tim's so affection starved it makes Dick's chest ache.
Tim arched without waking, luxuriating under the caress and curling into Dick with a perfect unconscious trust so entirely unlike the careful, cautious, calculated way that he treated everything when he was awake. In sleep, his face relaxed and he looked young, innocent, untouched. It made the scars on his torso, his throat, his limbs look raw and out of place. Without the nightmares, his hold on Dick was more like that of a sleeping child.
Dick turns his face toward Tim, tucking him in under his chin after brushing a kiss across his forehead. Already Tim feels comfortable in his arms, relaxed and trusting...not childish or even childlike, but innocent and sweet. Like someone his age should be, not like the hardened warrior he's made himself. That's the charm of it. The sweetness underneath the Bat-armor. If he could cradle Tim closer and tighter without waking him, he'd have him fully on top of him, held and cherished when he wakes. The best he can do for his little brother slash current lover (even if Tim hasn't admitted it, they're together right now and will be for awhile still) is roll them a little more onto their sides, so that he's between Tim and the door...the rest of the world.
Tim stirred then with a sleepy murmur. His eyes opened, clouded and distant, tried to focus, closed again. It was enough of an assessment to tell him two things--it wasn't time to be awake and there was no pressing need for him to be alert. Like Dick, if it had been necessary, Tim could have gone from fast asleep to battle ready in a heartbeat but when it wasn't necessary, Tim preferred the luxury of waking slowly. The walls remained down, his breathing sped up but not appreciably. Tim blinked a few more times then yawned and mumbled something indistinct.
The mumbling makes Dick smile. It means Tim knows he's safe. If he had any doubts, even one, whether emotional or physical, Tim would be wide awake and alert. Shifting again, Dick kisses the top of Tim's head and tangles their ankles together. His thumb smooths up and down over the curve of Tim's hip. It's hard not to tuck both his hands into Tim's sleep pants and pull him up against his morning erection. He wants him, wants to take Tim's mouth and spread his thighs and wrap them around his waist and... "Sleep all right?"
"Mmghf," Tim agreed then forced himself to actually keep his eyes open, tilting his head back to look up into Dick's face. The sweep of Dick's thumb over his hip was distracting in all sorts of ways, waking him up more and more with very unhelpful thoughts in his head. The fact that those mirrored the ones he saw behind Dick's eyes didn't help. They both had excellent self-control though. Tim stretched as much as he could without pulling away and his back rippled and popped. Words returned, contented and rested, "Yeah. I did."
He smiled. "Thanks."
1 am, Saturday, November 15
Tim sat bolt upright in his bed, cold sweat dripping down his spine, a strangled cry in his throat, every muscle screaming from being clenched so tight. For a few seconds, all he could do was gasp and shake, trying to slow his racing heart from battering against his ribcage, filling his ears with rushing blood. He didn't need a mirror to know he was sheet white. Didn't need to touch his own skin to know that he was cold as marble.
He couldn't help thinking of his last nightmare. Of walking up with Dick to soothe and comfort. But that had been three days ago. He was alone, with just the moonlight and the sluggish wind moving the curtain. It was better this way. He needed to learn how to do this again--face the nightmares, beat the fear, push back the grief. He couldn't rely on Dick for everything. He had to succeed or fail on his own.
Dick's been sleeping lightly, listening for nightmares from all corners of the Treehouse. Roy's doing better. Jill's skill at repression comes close to rivaling Tim's. And Bart...he's not sleeping soundly enough to dream. He's awake from Tim's first whimper, and across the common room before Tim pulls himself awake, not bothering to throw on a shirt. He pauses outside the door to make sure Tim's actually awake before letting himself in.
Leaning in the doorway, arms crossed loosely over his chest, he surveys the situation. Finds Tim sitting up, tense and gasping for breath. Eyes wide and terrified. Shaking. Instinct screams to go to him. Now. But Tim's a Bat first and foremost. There's an art to this. "Couldn't sleep," he says quietly. I'm here. "Thought I'd see how you were doing." I've got you.
"Very subtle," Tim returned, still looking forward toward the window. His heart was still beating fast, but his breath was starting to steady. "It was a nightmare, Dick. Just something that scared me, not something that hurt me." He turned his head and looked at Dick, face bloodless, eyes dark. "You can't come running in every time I have one. You'll never get any sleep if you do that."
He can and he will. "I did it for years with the Titans. Can't see why you should be any different," Dick answers, confident, calm, and reassuring. He's not watching Tim's pulse jump in the curve of his throat. Really. And he's definitely not thinking about soothing it with the flat of his tongue. Right, Grayson. "And I wouldn't have to come running if I was sleeping in here with you."
Tim's jaw clenched. "We're not having this talk. I'm going back to sleep now. You should do the same." He couldn't have him this close. Tim had an enormous amount of willpower but not when it came to Dick. Not when he had to hold himself together still, remember how to do this on his own.
He should respect Tim's refusal. He should, but he's not going to. Not when he can see Tim's heart slamming against his ribcage. And not when he knows all he has to do to make it stop is get Tim to let him stay. "Good idea," he answers, and arches out of his lean to go sit at the near edge of Tim's bed.
Tim's eyes widened, his hands clenched the sheet. "What are you doing?"
Dick hides a grin. It's not funny, except in all the ways that it is. "Sleeping. I'm tired and I don't feel like walking home."
Tim's eyes narrowed down again, "Dick, your room is twenty feet away. It's not on the second island." He took a deep breath, pushed himself back against the wall that served as the headboard, "You don't have to sleep in my bed. It's not necessary. I'm fine."
"I know I don't have to. I know you're fine." He's not. He's the farthest thing from fine. Now that he's up close, he can almost see the tension vibrating off Tim. Dick wraps a hand around Tim's ankle, steadying him even though he doesn't want it. "I want to. I like being here when you need me."
His mouth pressed into a thin line. Dick got beneath his skin too easily. "We all get nightmares. There's only one of you. You can't sleep with all of us." He was looking at Dick's hand on his ankle, not at Dick's face. He didn't know what he'd see there and didn't want to know what Dick would see in his. He was afraid that it would be the clawing need inside him. The fear that if Dick left, he'd be leaving for good. Tim knew that he could hold on too hard. So he was trying to avoid holding on at all. "I have to learn how to do this for myself again. It's been a week."
When Tim doesn't jerk his ankle away, Dick knows he's doing the right thing. Not that he really doubted it, but there's always that moment with Tim where it could go wrong. Send him screaming off into his Bat-armor, shutting Dick out completely. "You come first." His voice is quiet and low in the dark room, soothing. "You always come first." Before Roy. Definitely before the others. In a lot of ways even before Bruce. His thumb works a slow circle around the ball of Tim's ankle bone. There's a lot of ways he could answer Tim, but only one that will cut through everything to get to the heart of it. "Would you want me to be alone if I'd been dreaming about Blockbuster?"
Tim managed not to flinch, but only barely and the resulting tension hummed through his body. "No, of course not. That's not the point though, Dick. I just broke up with Bart and with what happened the other night, I..." Tim's jaw snapped shut with an audible click, biting his words off before they could continue to betray him. He pulled his ankle away, leaned forward over his bent knees and stared firmly at the window again.
Of course. Dick wants to shake him for being an idiot. If he thought it would help... it might, broad daylight, but right now, Tim needs comfort and sleep. In exactly that order. He shakes his head instead of Tim, rolling the tension out of his neck. "What happened the other night happened because we both wanted it to. Both of us." There's a sharp snap to his tone, one part anger and one part fear that maybe Tim didn't. Maybe he forced it. Maybe... don't touch me. I'm filthy. But he knows better. He does. "It was bound to happen. We couldn't go on wanting each other forever and not acting on it. But it doesn't have to happen again if you don't want it. I promise." And he never breaks his promises to Tim. Never.
"It can't happen again. There's no reason to regret it but it can't happen again," Tim said, still not looking at Dick. His stomach was a quivering mess and his pulse was picking back up. It was hard to breathe just thinking about the one night they'd had. He'd told himself that he would be okay with one time, one night. Just solving a mutual need. He was going to be practical about this. It shouldn't have been this hard to remember that. "I can make it through the nightmares, Dick. I don't know if I can face another...whatever this is."
Why not? His chest tightens, more than it should. The urge to pin Tim and make him say 'no' when they're pressed together, hard and wanting...it's so strong it makes him nauseated. He can't. He won't. He's never going to make it hard for Tim to say no about sex. Not ever.
He shouldn't give up, not while Tim's actually talking. But his words sting and Dick's not like Tim and Bruce, he can ignore how he feels when there's a need, but he can't shut it off. It'd be so easy to go back to bed by way of Roy's room. Tell Roy he can't sleep and let Roy work out the rest...
One last effort and then he's going to bed. Alone. "This..." Is right person, right place, right time. "Is me taking care of my family. Why are you so afraid to let me love you?"
Tim wanted to curl small, cover his head with his arms, feed everything into the pearl and just...vanish. Maybe then it would hurt less. Maybe then he could give everyone all the different chunks they needed of him and this terror that he'd lose them all would go away. He controlled the impulse but not before it sent a shiver of dread down his spine. Why was he so afraid to let Dick love him? Tim had no idea where to begin answering that.
He was afraid that being loved by Dick would finish what breaking up with Bart had started. He was afraid that he'd need more than Dick wanted to give and he knew that Dick would deny him nothing. He was afraid of failing. Afraid that Dick's love was Dick's duty. That it was caring for family and Tim's family was dead. Tim wasn't even sure that Dick loving him was the worst part of it.
"In the nightmare...I was going to the clinic. That didn't happen, I didn't even know about it. No one called me." His words were halting, like he had to grope after every one for the point he was trying to make. "But in the dream, I made it to the clinic. And it didn't matter. It was still too late. And they told me that there was nothing anyone could have done." He scrubbed his hands over his face, pushed them into his hair. "That's what he told me. And then I had to go back to work."
And Tim wants him to go? After that, it would take more than an order from Bruce to make him leave. Dick crawls across the bed to Tim, heart in his throat. He remembers. God, he remembers what it was like the days and weeks after Stephanie and Jack. It's not about him or sex or anything but wanting to wrap Tim up in his arms and make that go. away.
Kneeling next to Tim, Dick reaches out. Runs a hand over his hair. He can't tell Tim he'll never leave him. He could die. The island could take him right now - but it's going to have to take him fighting for all he's worth. He can't tell Tim that it'll never hurt to be in love or he'll never fail. How can he, when Dick's nightmares are all always about not being good enough, fast enough, smart enough? "Tim..." It's choked with emotion, thick with the tears Tim won't shed. "I can't change what happened. I can be here now." Let me be here now.
Tim's eyes burned with anguish too intense for tears. He looked at Dick steadily, still as a stone. It wasn't calm. Tim hadn't really been calm since he woke up. "I have to be able to go on, Dick. If I stop..." The soft whisper of his confession broke off and he shook his head. If he let Dick love him, he'd fall apart. No matter how soft the landing, from this height, he'd shatter.
If he stops, he'll grieve. If he doesn't, he'll become everything he's terrified of being. There's nothing he can say that's going to make this better. Not a damned thing. The hand not on Tim's head clenches into a fist, looking for something to hit. The hand on Tim's head softens, slides through Tim's hair. He can't let Tim skate away forever. He can give him a few more nights of peace. "We don't have to talk about it anymore tonight."
No more talking but Dick was too close to him for that to mean he was planning on leaving. And Tim was exhausted, too exhausted to fight anymore. Instead, he nodded mutely and shifted over on the bed to give Dick more room, trusting he'd read that right. Parts of him were still scared. Parts of him still wanted to weep. Parts of him were grateful that Dick had ignored him, fought him. It was all a mixed up knot of emotion in his stomach. Tim closed his eyes.
His relief is palpable, from the sigh to the slow drag of his fingers down Tim's shoulder before he settles onto the bed beside him. He won't force Tim to come to him. Instead, he reaches across the space between them for Tim's hand, coils his fingers around his wrist then pushes his thumb into Tim's palm. I've got you.
Tim exhaled with a shudder that wanted to be a sob but didn't pull his hand away. He knew how this one ended. In the morning, when they woke, Dick would be wrapped around him, close as he could be. Tim would be tangled up in him, clinging close like Dick was his only lifeline. Dick holding his hand was just a promise of that.
After fifteen years of being the only person Bruce really trusts, Dick knows how important 'breathing space' is when Bruce has yielded. He needs to nurse his pride and pretend that coming over to Dick's side of an argument is his idea. It's identical with Tim and the sides of the bed. As long as he doesn't fuss over Tim now, he'll be curled into Dick by morning.
---4 am---
Sleep sucked Tim down and he managed another few hours of sleep before a nightmare caught him in its maw and tossed him around before spitting him back out. He awoke abruptly but not hard enough to jolt. He found himself, as he'd predicted would happen, wrapped firmly around Dick, half-lying on top of him, their legs tangled, his mouth pressed into Dick's shoulder. His internal clock told him that it was still several hours shy of dawn and a quick check of Dick's breathing said he was still fast asleep. For a moment, Tim considered getting up. Meditating or reading. Or even just moving away and regaining his distance before he got too tangled in this to get back out.
Dick's skin was cooler than usual, body temperatures dropped while you slept, but under Tim's fingers it felt soft and warm. Vitally alive in a way that he needed after the nightmare. Tim decided to stay. While Dick slept, there was no risk. This could just be a comfort and he could keep his thoughts in line. Adjusting his hold, Tim shifted against Dick, finding his heartbeat beneath his ribcage and laying his hand over it. The slow, steady, constant rhythm brought a smile to his mouth and he closed his eyes again to concentrate on it.
Asleep, but not deeply enough not to rouse for any threat or recurrence of Tim's nightmares, Dick's brain registers Tim's whimpers. His body tenses with Tim's and relaxes again when Tim claws his way awake. He's loved too many people, slept with too many not to be aware of the small shifts of Tim's body that bring him closer or the flat of his hand sliding against Dick's abdomen. Smiling in his half-sleep, Dick runs his hand down Tim's spine with the slow fits and starts of someone mostly asleep, and tucks his fingers into Tim's sleep pants just above his hip. His breathing never changes, and there's nothing to say for sure that he'd been awake at all.
Tim's breath caught when Dick moved, afraid he'd woken him, then hitched again at the sleepy, grazing touch. Once Dick had settled back into sleep though, it was easy to relax. His mouth brushed Dick's shoulder, not quite a kiss or a claim, just inhaling the scent of Dick's skin. It was simple then to just tumble back into a light doze that deepened gradually into true sleep again.
---5:15 am, Sunday, November 16---
His eyes open before he realizes he's awake, but he doesn't move. Bat habit - don't give away your position without securing it. Dick habit - don't wake a sleeping partner if you can cuddle with them instead. The angle of the light and his internal clock tell him if he leaves in five minutes he'll make his pre-dawn run with Alcuin. But Tim's still soundly asleep and octopused around him closer than sex. Tim doesn't need to be out of bed for another thirty-five minutes.
Sorry, Alcuin. Alcuin will run without him. Dick will find him later to apologize. Of all people, Alcuin will understand.
Slowly, mimicing sleeping movements as close as he can, Dick moves one hand up into Tim's hair behind his head which is on his chest. The other returns to where he'd had it several hours ago when he'd half-woken to soothe Tim back to sleep. It's a seduction...not for sex but for snuggling. Tim's so affection starved it makes Dick's chest ache.
Tim arched without waking, luxuriating under the caress and curling into Dick with a perfect unconscious trust so entirely unlike the careful, cautious, calculated way that he treated everything when he was awake. In sleep, his face relaxed and he looked young, innocent, untouched. It made the scars on his torso, his throat, his limbs look raw and out of place. Without the nightmares, his hold on Dick was more like that of a sleeping child.
Dick turns his face toward Tim, tucking him in under his chin after brushing a kiss across his forehead. Already Tim feels comfortable in his arms, relaxed and trusting...not childish or even childlike, but innocent and sweet. Like someone his age should be, not like the hardened warrior he's made himself. That's the charm of it. The sweetness underneath the Bat-armor. If he could cradle Tim closer and tighter without waking him, he'd have him fully on top of him, held and cherished when he wakes. The best he can do for his little brother slash current lover (even if Tim hasn't admitted it, they're together right now and will be for awhile still) is roll them a little more onto their sides, so that he's between Tim and the door...the rest of the world.
Tim stirred then with a sleepy murmur. His eyes opened, clouded and distant, tried to focus, closed again. It was enough of an assessment to tell him two things--it wasn't time to be awake and there was no pressing need for him to be alert. Like Dick, if it had been necessary, Tim could have gone from fast asleep to battle ready in a heartbeat but when it wasn't necessary, Tim preferred the luxury of waking slowly. The walls remained down, his breathing sped up but not appreciably. Tim blinked a few more times then yawned and mumbled something indistinct.
The mumbling makes Dick smile. It means Tim knows he's safe. If he had any doubts, even one, whether emotional or physical, Tim would be wide awake and alert. Shifting again, Dick kisses the top of Tim's head and tangles their ankles together. His thumb smooths up and down over the curve of Tim's hip. It's hard not to tuck both his hands into Tim's sleep pants and pull him up against his morning erection. He wants him, wants to take Tim's mouth and spread his thighs and wrap them around his waist and... "Sleep all right?"
"Mmghf," Tim agreed then forced himself to actually keep his eyes open, tilting his head back to look up into Dick's face. The sweep of Dick's thumb over his hip was distracting in all sorts of ways, waking him up more and more with very unhelpful thoughts in his head. The fact that those mirrored the ones he saw behind Dick's eyes didn't help. They both had excellent self-control though. Tim stretched as much as he could without pulling away and his back rippled and popped. Words returned, contented and rested, "Yeah. I did."
He smiled. "Thanks."