Dick was always awake late at night. Not so much because he had a habit of it, he just was more productive at three in the morning than others.
To the members of the Wayne home, it deemed constant scolding. Bruce would simply warn him that patrol would be off limits without a good night's rest; Alfred would scorn and guilt him into sleep. Tim would pretty much just change the wifi password and hide Grayson's reading material.
Damian however didn't care. If Grayson wanted to be sleep deprived and weak, then that was his choice. It just made Damian the strongest robin (not that he wasn't already.)
But, then again, some nights Damian couldn't sleep either. It wasn't because of the distractions like Dick had, but Damian would wake up in cold sweats.
At first Damian couldn't fathom why he'd woken up, or why his adrenaline was rushing. It wasn't until a week later that he started to realize what was happening. During the night he'd start dreaming; mostly pointless things that weren't worth his memory, but then they started becoming…weird.
The dreams were always different, and they always were fuzzy. Sometime it was the Joker, it had even been his father once; the point was they always ended with blood and Damian terrified.
Of course Damian felt the dreams were repulsive. He wouldn't be afraid. He wasn't afraid. Yet, here he was at two in the morning, wandering the halls of the Wayne mansion because that stupid dream had woken him.
As he passed Dick's room, he froze. Inside he could hear music. It was muffled, and Damian guessed Dick had his headphones in. Damian glared at the door bitterly. Grayson needed sleep more than ever.
A week ago, Grayson was alone on patrol. One wrong move and Dick had fallen three stories, hitting a fire escape on his fall. A broken arm, collarbone and three ribs would put him out of commission for months. How he was managing to stay awake with all the pain medication Alfred was giving him, Damian had no idea.
Determined to insure Dick wasn't going to be stuck in bed a day longer than needed, Damian stormed into the room.
Dick glanced up and raised an eyebrow at the entrance. As Damian had expected, the headphones were on. Grayson lay on his bed reading a book with his good arm, the other limp in a sling.
"Why are you up so late?" Dick asked, lifting his headphones to hear the answer.
"Why are you?" Damian snapped back.
Dick shrugged then turned back to his book. "Couldn't sleep."
Damian crawled onto the bed and scowled over the top of the book. "You're injured."
"I noticed."
"You should be sleeping." Damian stated as firmly as possible.
"Go to bed Damian." Dick countered.
Huffing Damian sat back on his heels. This conversation was a continuous circle. "Why can't you sleep?" he finally asked from curiosity.
Dick sighed and lowered the book. "The stuff Al gave me isn't very pleasant."
"How so?"
"Gives me bad dreams." He answered.
Damian bit his lip. Grayson had nightmares? Dick was one of the strongest people he knew; what could he possibly be afraid of?
"What about you?" Grayson was asking.
Damian shrugged, not wanting to seem childish.
Dick hummed then smiled softly. "I guess we both need some rest by now. Can you set these on the dresser for me?" Dick asked holding his book and iPod out to Damian.
When Damian stood, Dick stretched out onto the bed and settled under his blankets as best he could with one arm. Damian set the things on Dick's dresser and stood awkwardly by the door. He didn't want to leave.
"Are you going to be alright, Grayson?"
Dick looked up and smiled at Damian. "Do you want to sleep in here Damian?"
Thinking briefly Damian nodded and crawled back onto the bed beside Dick. "Just incase something happens and you can't protect yourself in your current condition." Damian explained, crawling under the covers.
"Wow, that's really thoughtful. Thank you Damian."
Ignoring the obvious hints of sarcasm, Damian replied: "You're welcome, Grayson."
In minutes Damian had found himself asleep, his dreams uneventful.