Disclaimer: Don't own Batman

This is going to be a two-shot most likely. I think it's going to be part of a larger universe of series, but I haven't decided on a name yet. The next chapter focuses on Damian getting used to nightmares and comfort, and we may see Tim :P But I love Damian, and he needs to be snuggled more. And cuddled. He's so precious!

Night Terrors

It all started after the incident with Professor Pyg and Flamingo. While Damian would never admit it, the moment when he had been trapped with all those Dollotrons had terrified him. For the first time in his almost-ten years of life, Damian had truly thought he would die. And all for assuming he had the skill to take down Professor Pyg by himself. He wouldn't tell anyone about it afterwards though.

The first night after the incident with Professor Pyg, Damian remembered going to bed. His room, being a nice large room, almost in the corner of the penthouse, was sparse. On his bedside table was a pencil and sketchbook. The drawer was always locked, but when opened revealed pages filled with drawings Damian had done over the days- no weeks- since his father had died. The desk was a few feet away and had a stack of books. His swords lay polished in a stand near the window. Damian had no other personal effects as such to claim this room his own.

Not that the boy cared. Rather, he had changed into a button-down pair of cotton pyjamas, in a light green shade that the boy was rather fond of. He'd brushed his teeth, after grumbling to Pennyworth that Grayson was a fool for telling him to sleep when he could help Grayson in the cave with the mission reports. However, Pennyworth had merely with his regular stoicism told Damian that growing boys need sleep. And thus Damian had arrived to his bed.

Contrary to Drake's insistence that Damian was a demon, he did not sleep in a strict rigid manner. Grayson liked to say that Damian best resembled a child in his sleep. He slept with two pillows, one for his head, and another he kept beside him. Despite Grayson's insistence that he hugged the pillow in his sleep, he scoffed. Such a thing would be a sign of weakness, and Damian was not weak. Damian would pull the blankets over himself and the pillow, allowing the soft down cover to wrap entirely around him.

Grayson had insisted on Damian using a child's print sheets. Damian had acquiesced to the man, on the grounds that Damian could choose. He had a suspicious feeling if he had let Grayson choose, the man would have picked the Superman quilt and cover. Perhaps with some sentimental foolishness on how he had used the same pattern as a child himself, and how it was part of a legacy. Idiot. Damian had allowed himself the blue and green striped set, which though frivolous, was far better then the Batman quilts Grayson had suggested.

The straight stripes that adorned his bed during the morning crossed over as the quilt folded around him, drawing the lines into curves as he huddled inside the blanket. The pillow was tucked underneath, distorting the image of the little boy in a queen-sized bed that was far too big for him. He was practically engulfed by it.

However, he didn't fall asleep. His mind was working overtime. He kept thinking about Professor Pyg, and the Dollotrons. There were so many of them. He wondered if he would be alive had Grayson not shown up when he did. Or if he would be like the Dollotron- Sasha- who helped him. He still didn't know where she was. His mind was fitful, thinking about the people that Pyg had hurt. In all his training, he'd never seen such things. He'd never come across monsters such as those. He'd never come across dangerous beings like those. Not even in his reading had he heard of such beasts.

Some how he fell asleep, those images still fresh in his mind. So it was no surprise that his dreams followed the delirious theme of Professor Pyg. He found himself face to face with the monster, as he spewed on. The Dollotrons attacked, and Batman never came. The dream froze before Damian died at the hands of the monsters Pyg had created. He had taken this all in silence, but now he cried out for the Batman. For Grayson. He turned and finally saw the man, but he was scowling in sullen silence. "Where were you?! Why are you not rescuing me?!" he screamed at the man, furious and shaking, the entire dream mocking him. The Dollotrons still frozen.

"You disobeyed my orders Damian," said Grayson in an eerily chilly voice, one his mother had used before. It slapped Damian across the face, and he froze. "You know the punishment for disobedience. I'm afraid that I cannot help you. I didn't even want you for a partner. Why would I want to help you now?"

And then Grayson left. Damian's eyes widened, and he began thrashing furiously, his arms stretching. He felt the warmth of his suit being tugged away, and suddenly he bolted up. His eyes were wide open as he stared at the beginning inches of sunlight pouring into his window. The sky was still a solemn purple though, and the moon still hung in the air. Damian ignored the view of serenity, however, for his own heart was thudding.

He looked at his hands, and then grimly realized they were shaking. He clutched the quilt to his chest, breathing heavily. His face was wet. He grimaced and wiped the wetness away, refusing to accept that he had been crying. He had never cried before! He hadn't shed tears since he was a five year old. Tears were weak. Nobody wanted to ally themselves with a weak creature. All this weakness over one deranged lunatic. Was Grayson perhaps infecting him?

But Grayson never cried in his sleep. Damian had never heard of the man having- that was not a nightmare, that would be weak. It was a moment of discomfort. He was an al Ghul, a Wayne. They were not weak. And if Grayson didn't have nightmares, neither did Damian. He had been simply unprepared for the man. That's all. Damian wiped away the last of the tears, and resolved to train harder, so that Grayson wouldn't regret his decision to keep Damian alive.

However, despite the early hour, Damian was certain he wouldn't be able to sleep. So instead, the boy slipped out of bed and began his morning routine. Three hours earlier then intended. So he repeated the routine thrice. Five rounds of push-ups, forty each time. Sit-ups, thirty per round, for five rounds. Squats, forty each time, four rounds. Leg raises, squat thrusts, and knuckle push ups. He was exhausted, and sweating by the time eight o'clock rolled around, so he headed for a shower.

The hot water from the shower was relaxing. His muscles were sore and tense, he'd overworked himself. With only three hours of sleep, he shouldn't have pushed himself that hard. Damian didn't care however. Instead, he shampooed his hair, scowling when he realized that Grayson had replaced his practical bottle of non-scented shampoo with a kids brand that smelled like strawberries. At least the soap was still in tact. But Damian growled at the fruity scent coming off his head and vowed to get revenge on Grayson, only then remembering his dream. This was a conundrum. Sighing, Damian resolved to growl at Grayson about it and have Pennyworth fix the situation.

After the horrors of the night, Damian slipped out of the shower and headed to breakfast. His hair wasn't combed, but honestly, Damian was too tired to think about it. Dark circles were under his eyes, but he was resolved not to look weak. As he walked into the kitchen, both Grayson and Pennyworth turned to look at him in surprise. He grit his teeth and slid across from Grayson at the table, fixing a scowl at the man.

"You changed my shampoo," he said grumpily.

Grayson grinned, but his eyes gave him an obvious glance over. Pennyworth didn't say anything as he laid a bowl of oatmeal in front of the boy. He nodded and muttered a thank-you before slowly eating the warm oatmeal. It was soft and delicious, and it felt good to eat after his exhausting morning work out.

"I'll resolve the matter of the shampoo Master Damian," said Pennyworth, and Damian nodded again, missing the look exchanged by both Grayson and Pennyworth.

"So, did you sleep well Dami?" asked Grayson, sounding concerned, but Damian glared furiously at him. How dare he ask such a question?! He was searching for Damian's weaknesses. He was pointing directly at the boy's flaws. He wanted Damian to admit it, admit his weakness!

"Fine," said Damian with a scowl, as he continued to shovel the oatmeal down, determined to escape from here.

Grayson eyed him closely, and seemed hesitant as he tried to find the right words, but Damian had finished his oatmeal. He wasn't about to let Grayson keep questioning him.

"I will be in my room," said Damian shortly, pushing the bowl away and stomping away.

The rest of the day continued in this uneasy manner. Damian stayed in his room. He drew for a while, but in his exhaustion he passed out on the bed. He woke up from a nightmare, his body soaked in sweat, only two hours later. Neither Pennyworth nor Grayson would know, since he'd locked the door. However, Damian changed his clothes and washed his face thoroughly before heading to the Bat Cave and began to fool around with his bike for a few hours. That was calming and relaxing.

After eating a late lunch, Grayson and he trained for a bit. Grayson asked him again about if he slept well. He responded with a well-placed kick to the stomach. Grayson would not catch him in a moment of weakness. After the training, he utilized his faculties to stay awake. He could do it easily, and after his second shower of the day, he made his way to the Bat computer silently. Grayson was on the phone with Wayne Enterprises.

Damian pulled up a file on a villain. Killer Croc. He began reading over his psychosis, his crimes. He forced himself to look at the crime scenes. He hadn't been prepared for Pyg. He had to be prepared for the next criminal. And he committed the information to memory, despite the fact that he didn't enjoy it. The worst scene involved children. Mutilated bodies of children his age. He read each and every detail of the autopsies. The fact that the children were awake, as claw marks ran across their bodies, stripping them of their skin. Blood loss. Bite marks.

His nightmares only got worse after that. He would lay awake, thinking of the cases Batman and Robin had, his hands shaking as he clenched the quilts. He stopped reading after that. He couldn't go back. It was weakness, but as he lay in bed, he was at his weakest. The shadows in the room would turn into images of Pyg or Croc, taunting him. Every night he'd wake up, gasping for air. His body would be covered in sweat. Sometimes his face would have tear marks on them.

The worst part of his nightmares, the reoccurring terrors, always revolved around Batman. Some nights, instead of Croc or Pyg going after him, it would just be him and Batman. Grayson had realized he was weak. Grayson would look at him with disgust, staring at him coldly. He would know that Damian had been afraid. Unable to save himself from his own night terrors, featuring the Croc coming after him, or Pyg mutilating him.

"You have failed," would come the cold voice, again, eerily like his mother.

"I- I can improve!" he would always reply, fists clenched, desperate.

"You are weak. You can't even defeat a dream," the man would say, staring coldly at him from behind the cowl, "Perhaps I shouldn't have been so hasty. Drake handled this much better then you. No worries, I have called for Drake. He is more than willing to resume his position as Robin."

"No! I can be ten times better than Drake! I swear I can! Don't replace me!" he would demand (beg), "I will train harder. I'm already training harder! What am I supposed to do in the manor all day? You can't just bench me!"

"You think you can stay with us after this failure? Pennyworth has already packed your bags," said Batman, cold and detached, "Get out."

Then he would turn, his cape fluttering behind him as he returned to the computer. Damian would stare in shock. At this point, he'd sometimes wake up. Sometimes, if he was truly a glutton for punishment, he would stay asleep. The dream would continue, as Drake walked in, wearing the old Robin costume of his. Damian would try and attack, determined to prove his worth. Batman would watch, as he parried blows. His hands would connect with Drake, but the older Robin would laugh coldly. And then Damian would end up on the ground, beaten into submission.

"You think you can beat me? I am much stronger then you," Drake would laugh, "I'm the better Robin. You never deserved it."

"Failure," Batman would say with a glare, "Now get out."

Pennyworth would come in, holding his bags out and looking stoic and unruffled. Not a hint of regret in his eye, but perhaps, a hint of pride? He seemed happy. The man would shove the bags into Damian's arms, and due to the illogical processes of his mind, he was able to stand and take the bags. None of them would look at him, their backs turned. He'd feel small and scared.

"Where do I go?" he'd ask, but they'd ignore him, as Pennyworth catered to Drake and Grayson, who would laugh happily together. They didn't want him, and suddenly he'd be all alone.

The dreams never went further then that, as he'd wake up, his eyes wet and his body shaking. He hated those dreams. And they occurred more often then he appreciated. He was actually terrified to sleep. So he pushed himself to the brink of exhaustion in his training, and sometimes, he'd fall asleep and he wouldn't dream. His behaviour in patrol was getting sloppy, however. He sustained more wounds then he'd like. Grayson hadn't said anything yet, so he deemed that he was getting away with it.

Not that Grayson would notice much anyways. Between being Batman, head of Wayne Enterprises as Drake gallivanted off on a fruitless mission, and being responsible for Damian, the latter which Damian refused to acknowledge outside of his own head, Grayson only slept an hour or two at most during the nights. And if Grayson could run at such conditions, then so could Damian. Night mares be damned.

"What do I do Alfred? He's never been this unfocused before," asked one Richard Grayson to his father's oldest friend and butler, Alfred.

The wise man in question was pouring his charge tea in the Bat Cave. It had been a week since the incident with Professor Pyg. And Damian's behaviour had changed for the worse. The boy was snappy and ruder then normal when spoken to, but otherwise, he had drawn entirely into himself. His eyes had dark circles under them, most definitely from a lack of sleep. He was training twice as hard, and Alfred could tell that the boy was nervous. Skittish. The butler had seen the same sort of thing in all his young charges.

"Have you spoken to him about it?" asked Alfred politely, offering the cup filled with hot tea to the young man who had taken on a burdensome job.

Alfred looked over Richard, the once young and bouncing boy that had filled the corners of Master Bruce's heart with love. The boy who had brought a smile to their faces. He looked tired now, older beyond his twenty-four years of age. He could see through the boy's facade of being a man. He was scared, and worried. Trying so hard to be like the late master Bruce. Bruce. That brought up a whole different closet of skeletons that Alfred didn't want to think about tonight.

"I- I don't think he'll tell me outright," confessed Richard, "Every time I try and broach the subject during training he flinches and acts insulted. Earlier today I mentioned his kick wasn't sharp, and he ended up repeating that kick twenty times until I let the matter drop all while yelling insults about how I was a pathetic trainer and his form was perfect."

"I see," said Alfred, almost wanting to smile at the similarities between Bruce and Richard's situations.

He could remember the scene now. Richard had just been taken out of the Detention Facility, and the boy had been suffering nightmares. Bruce had managed to deduce the nightmares, but not how to deal with it. So he had sat in his chair at the computer, and asked Alfred what to do. The situation was so similar now, as Master Richard sat here, trying to find the problem. Yet the difference was clear, one had known the problem but not the solution, the other would know the solution, but didn't know the problem.

"You know something," Said Richard suddenly, and Alfred gave a nod.

"There isn't much I don't know in this house, Master Richard," said the older man, and the boy waited, a hint of desperation in his eye. "His sheets are stained with sweat, most nights. And he has a habit of waking in the early hours to exercise. In fact, he's overworking himself to the brink of exhaustion, and then refuses to sleep. He seems uneasy about sleeping."

Richard gaped up at the older man, as a dawning realization came to his eyes. He leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his long, dark locks. He looked over at Alfred before weakly saying, "He's got nightmares?"

"Everyone has them at one point or another in their lives," said Alfred with a nod, "For some of us, they never end. I believe that's the reason we're sitting in this bunker, is it not?"

Richard nodded, looking a bit lost and very guilty. Alfred reached out and placed a hand on the boy's shoulder, calmly continuing on to say, "And it's no fault of yours for not noticing, Master Richard."

"I- I don't get it," said Richard with a sigh, "I knew when Tim had nightmares and even Jason, how did I miss Damian's nightmares?"

"Master Timothy always came directly to you when he had nightmares," reminded Alfred with a nod, "And Master Jason was always very- vocal, and expressive. He was easy to read when he had his nightmares. The young master's reaction is different, and he doesn't seem to want any help."

Richard bit his lower lip, trying to find the right words, before right out asking, "So how do I help him if he doesn't want help?"

Alfred simply looked at Richard, as he waited for the answer. He sighed, and couldn't help the bittersweet memories of Master Bruce trying the same thing, instead of trying to reach the answers himself. Master Richard was far more direct though, much like he was as a boy, sitting in the kitchen with his homework and trying to get Alfred to divulge the answers by directly claiming ignorance.

"You've helped two brothers with their nightmares," said Alfred with a nod, "I'm certain you'll find the answer to helping Master Damian with his. How would you help yourself if you were him?"

Richard grinned, boyish and youthful again as he realized Alfred's tactic, replying easily, "I guess hugs will have to do. Maybe some hot cocoa? Think you can stir up some for tomorrow Alfred?"

"Of course, Master Richard," he replied easily. Behind the stoic mask, Alfred smirked in amusement. He let go of Richard's shoulder, and turned to head to bed himself. As he left, he looked at the young man sitting in the chair and righting reports, and sorting through the Wayne Enterprises files. With a sigh, he wondered if maybe he should lace the cocoa with sleeping pills so that both his charges got a decent nights' sleep.

The next day, Dick woke up around noon and headed to Wayne Enterprises, like everything was normal. He spoke with Lucius, did the routine Board meeting, and then came home, easily chatting with Alfred as the man served dinner. By the time Damian came downstairs, Dick was ready to face the problem of nightmares head on. He'd done it with Jason, sort of, once, twice maybe, when he was around because he and Bruce weren't fighting. But he'd done it for Tim all the time!

"Grayson," said Damian as acknowledgement of greeting.

Dick grinned and ruffled the boy's hair, earning a sharp slap on his wrist. Which was worrying. No cutting remarks, no punch or death threats. As Dick slid into the seat across from Damian, he looked the boy over sharply. He had dark circles under his eyes. His clothes were ruffled, his hair mussed. Damian wasn't taking care of himself, that was certain. The boy looked exhausted, and for the first time, he looked like a ten-year old kid. It broke Dick's heart. And he felt thrice as guilty for having Alfred point the situation out to him. How had he missed the signs?

As Alfred served them dinner, spaghetti with meatballs, he chattered away about his day, Damian ignoring him entirely, and Alfred giving polite nods. He knew better then to confront Damian at the dinner table. The boy might try and use the butter knives on him. After taking his dish to the sink, and prodding Damian to do the same, he turned to his little brother.

"Alright Damian, let's go watch a movie!" Dick said jovially, beaming as wide as he could.

The boy glared at him, tt-ing rather loudly before replying, "I'd rather train."

"No training today! We deserve a break, and that means no patrol either!" said Dick, as he nodded for Damian to follow.

The boy's eyes widened and he stared at Dick in fury and anger, then continued on to demand, "Why not?!"

"I'm exhausted," said Dick, and it was only a partial lie, as he entered the living room with Damian following, "And we deserve a break sometimes."

"But- We are Batman and Robin! We have to protect the city from the cretins that roam the streets! Father would want that! Only a sub par Batman would say we shouldn't patrol," argued Damian, as he crossed his arms sullenly, "Batman doesn't get tired Grayson. You're weak!"

Dick sighed, as he sat down on the couch, and met Damian's sullen blue eyes. He wondered if Damian had looked in the mirror. His eyes were sunk into his face, and idly Dick wondered when was the last time the boy had slept a full night. Guilt pierced through him again.

"Damian, I know you've been having nightmares," said Dick bluntly, deciding to go about the direct way.

That had been a bad decision. Damian's eyes went wide, and he turned bright red and glared ferociously at Dick. All the exhaustion that had been taunting Damian before slipped out of his body and turned into anger. Directed specifically at him. God this was bad. Damian reached out with a fist and aimed directly for his jaw, but Dick was faster. Granted he was running on low sleep, but Damian was pushing himself. The fist was caught in Dick's hand, as Damian reached out to kick.

"I have not been having nightmares!" growled Damian angrily, "I am the son of Batman! An Al Ghul- We do not have nightmares!"

Dick sighed, and briefly wondered why he got stuck with the aggressive and proud Robin in his tenure as Batman, as Damian sprang backwards. Maybe he should have done this during training. Damian swept out to kick him, but Dick caught his leg. Damian twisted his leg up, causing Dick to move forward due to the momentum, and allowing Damian's other leg to hit him in the thigh.

"Damian- It's perfectly natural to have nightmares," growled Dick, as he dropped Damian's leg, and fended off a second punch.

"I. Do. Not. Have. Nightmares!" growled Damian, accentuating each word with a punch or kick.

"No seriously, even Bruce had nightmares Damian," said Dick, as he caught Damian around his waist and pulled the kid in close for a hug, causing the boy to squirm. His arms were pinned to his side as Dick held him from behind, resting his chin easily on the boy's head as his legs tried to kick at Dick. Fortunately, the older man was prepared, and was leaning back so that Damian couldn't kick, or at least, couldn't get a sharp kick in.

"I don't!" argued Damian.

"I have nightmares all the time, almost always when you or Timmy are hurt," continued Dick, as though Damian hadn't spoken, "So does Tim. Heck- I bet even Alfred has nightmares. It comes with the job, we all have nightmares."

"I don't!" argued Damian again, but it was half-hearted, and his squirming had lessened.

"My nightmares tend to be the same," said Dick softly, "Usually it involves someone dying. Sometimes I see my parents die again, watch them fall off the trapeze. Sometimes I see Bruce dying, imagine how he died in battle against Darkseid. Sometimes I picture Jason's death, or Babs. And Tim. Recently I even have dreams of you dying."

Damian stopped squirming entirely at that, and looked up at Dick with sharp surprise, his eyes asking the question he couldn't bring himself to. Dick almost smiled as he flumped backwards onto the couch, pulling Damian, who was still stuck in Dick's hug, onto his lap. It broke Dick's heart slightly to see Damian's expression of need and confusion, reminding him again how the boy grew up. It reminded Dick of how many nights the kid hadn't been sleeping, in fear of his own psyche.

"Yes, even you," said Dick with a small smile at the boy.

"How do I die?" asked Damian in morbid curiosity, which made Dick flinch a bit.

"Well, ever since the incident with Professor Pyg, sometimes I picture myself too slow in getting to you. The Dollotrons rip you to sheds," said Dick, as he tightened his grip instinctively around the boy, "Or I get there too late and Pyg's mutated you into one of them, and I couldn't save you."

Damian looked away, and squirmed slightly, which made Dick loosen his hold, but just barely. However, Dick simply smiled down at Damian, and said, "Do you know how I deal with the nightmares?"

"Tt, as if you sleep anymore," said Damian with an eye-roll, which made Dick wince as he remembered how the work at Wayne Enterprises and as Batman often made him sleep only an hour or two a night. He hadn't thought anyone but Alfred really noticed, but apparently Damian had.

"I'm not hiding from sleeping because of the nightmares," said Dick quickly, storing the information away to ponder if Damian had been emulating his actions as a mechanism for coping, "It's because of the work load I have! That's not the point though- I'm a grown man, I don't need as much sleep. Anyways, usually I get through a particularly hard nightmare by talking about it and lots of hugs."

Damian scoffed at the explanation, but didn't look entirely upset as he considered Dick's words. Dick decided to gently prod on as he asked, "What do you dream about, little D?"

Damian went rigid below him, and looked ready to bolt, but Dick waited as Damian considered the solution. Finally he looked down at his knees, kicking his legs up and down, swinging them as though trying to distract himself. Dick moved one arm as he sat back more comfortably, and gently squeezed Damian's shoulder, "I won't laugh."

Damian glared at Dick, but finally said, "Similar to yours, I dream of being apprehended by a villain and you not arriving in time to assist me."

Dick sucked in a breath at the kid's admission, and felt at the same time as though he'd been punched. The kid had been traumatized by that mission! And Dick hadn't noticed! He felt like a pile of crap. The kid really doubted him, almost as much as Dick doubted himself as Batman.

"Dami," said Dick, sounding horrified as he looked at the boy, who was eyeing him curiously, "I know in our line of work there's a good possibility that you could get in trouble with a villain, but I promise you- I will always do my damned best to be there and fight beside you. We're partners, Batman and Robin, and I'm not going to let you down."

Damian looked at Dick for quite some time, and then nodded reluctantly, "Tt, I know that, Grayson. It's just a stupid dream anyways, it's not true."

Dick stopped for a minute, as he took in Damian's appearance. He wasn't meeting Dick's eyes, and he looked relieved but at the same time guilty. Only in his exhaustion could the boy look like a kid and at the same time be so easy to read. There was something else he wasn't saying.

"Damian, it's not weak to have nightmares," said Dick slowly, "It's alright to be afraid."

Damian nodded, as Alfred chose that moment to walk in. He glanced over the two of them, and smiled as he held out mugs of hot cocoa. Damian took his with the free hand, and squirmed out of Dick's lap, but sat beside him on the couch, still looking thoughtful. Dick took his mug, and gave Alfred a thank-you as the older man walked out of the room.

"If- If I were to hypothetically fail in my role as Robin," said Damian slowly, as he sipped the cocoa and didn't meet Dick's eyes, "Would you- hypothetically speaking- replace me? I mean- I doubt you could find a better Robin then myself, so nobody would be able to replace my role, but if I were-

Dick stopped the boy right there, wrapping an arm around Damian as he found the crux of those nightmares. Damian assumed that he was going to be replaced! That his weaknesses made him unworthy. Dick was already extrapolating from that information and assumed that Damian thought his weakness meant not only being benched as Robin, but possibly removed from the house. It was definitely a move that the League of Shadows would use. Dick made another mental note of the flaws of parenthood among the League.

"Damian," he said quietly, "No matter what happens, you're always going to be my Robin, and nothing is going to change that. I may bench you if you mess up really badly, but even then, I'm not going to replace you, or kick you out of the house because of it."

Damian flushed, but wisely chose not to comment as he sipped his hot cocoa, and Dick sighed, feeling a relief settling into his heart. He grinned down at Damian, and continued, "Besides, it would be pretty hard to find a grouchy little bird like you."

Damian scowled at him, as he ruffled Damian's hair and pulled the boy closer to him. However, Damian didn't push away the physical contact. He looked slightly uncomfortable, like a fish out of water, but otherwise seemed content.

"Of course, I'm irreplaceable," said Damian smugly, as Dick laughed.

After finished the hot cocoa, both boys agreed to forgo the movie. Damian was nearly asleep in Dick's arms, and Dick couldn't help but feel a bit wistful. As soon as the kid was well-rested again, he'd be back to his aggressive self, taunting Dick at every turn. Oh well. He scooped Damian up into his arms, and began walking the kid out. All he got was a few protests from the kid, and a smile from Alfred as they passed by him. As they headed to their room, Dick suddenly got a brilliant idea. He lead Damian directly down the hall, and into his room.

"Are you lost Grayson? This is your room," said Damian, rubbing his eyes and staring at Dick.

"And we're sleeping together tonight, just in case we have nightmares," said Dick cheerfully, as he set the kid down on the bed.

Damian stared at Dick, but before he could protest, Dick had slipped into the blankets and was pulling Damian beside him. For a few fleeting seconds, Damian looked at Dick with a wide-eyed kind of wonder and that lost little expression, before he huffed and said, "Please Grayson, I'm only staying here in case you have nightmares."

"That's okay, you can be my teddy bear," said Dick, pulling Damian close. Damian's eyes were already shutting, so he simply shoved Dick with a growl, but otherwise, he relaxed, and allowed the warmth Dick was exuding to wrap around him. And for the first time, both boys slept a nightmare-free slumber.