Author's Note: So I have never written anything for this fandom before. But I read other author's stories about these boys greedily, and shamelessly nag/encourage/check almost daily for certain stories or authors' updates. I figured, you shouldn't take and give nothing back. It's bad manners.
They're probably completely out of character, and this is total, unabashed fluff, because that's what I like to read...and write.
They are all so very, very different. Which doesn't bother Dick, or make him love any of them any less. It bemuses him sometimes, although he supposes it shouldn't. None of them share even one biological parent, after all. But still, you would think growing up in the same house, and being brought up by the same man, would count for something.
Apparently not. It is clear how very different they are, never more so to Dick than at night.
Jason never used to come to him with nightmares before. He has recently moved back into the mansion, and it warms Dick's heart to have him at home. There are nights when Dick is woken by his screaming, and goes to him before Jason wakes, shakes him gently out of it and soothes him back to sleep. But there are also nights when Jason's torment must be quieter, nights when Dick doesn't wake until he feels the bed shifting under another's weight.
He comes awake slowly, blinking at the figure sliding uninvited under the covers. "Jay?" He asks sleepily, and hears his brother's slightly shaky response.
"I need to sleep here tonight, Dickiebird."
"Of course. C'mere." Dick reaches out for him, still half asleep, and Jason reaches as well, his fingers soon knotted in Dick's pyjamas. Jason lies facing him, needing to see him, and Dick mirrors him, curling up close.
Jason doesn't need to tell his brother what his nightmares are about; Dick can guess all too easily. Jason never wants to talk in any case, only lie there with harsh, shaky breathing and his fingers knotting compulsively in the fabric of Dick's shirt.
"Just a bad dream, Jay." He murmurs, carding his fingers lazily through the two tone hair, letting his other hand rest on his brother's side, over his ribs, so that he can feel when the light trembling stops. He'll murmur quiet words of comfort until his brother stills, "I'm here," and "It's all right now," and later, when the trembling stills, "Go back to sleep."
Calmed, Jason will mumble a soft, slightly ashamed, "Thanks, Dickiebird."
Dick just reaches around and scoops him closer, takes the hand that is knotted in his pyjamas in one of his own. "Good night, little brother." It doesn't hurt to remind Jason that he is Dick's little brother; that it is natural and normal for him to come to Dick for comfort. Just before he drifts off, he'll press a gentle kiss on the top of Jason's hair. "Love you, Little Wing," he'll murmur, because it doesn't hurt to remind Jason of that, either.
If Jason isn't already asleep, he'll squeeze Dick's hand, because he struggles with words, and those ones in particular, Dick knows. But he doesn't have to voice his feelings. One of Dick's innate big brother skills is knowing things his little brothers don't say.
Tim isn't as sure as Jason is. He'll creep into Dick's room, sometimes even knocking gently at the door. "Dick?" He calls in a small voice, tentative in the darkness.
If Dick doesn't wake, he'll creep closer, hesitating at least once, depending on how bad his need for his brother is, before he reaches the bed. Dick is usually awake by this point, and can coax him closer, but some nights, particularly if he is exhausted, or injured, it will take Tim's uncertain shake of his shoulder to wake him.
"Dick?"
"Timmy." He doesn't have to inject the warmth into his voice, that comes naturally, and he hopes that one day Tim will figure that out. In the meantime, he'll lift the covers invitingly, giving his brother a gentle, sleepy smile.
"Can I sleep with you?" Tim whispers, still unsure, eyeing the spot next to his older brother longingly.
"You don't have to ask, kiddo." Dick reminds him gently. "Come on in."
Tim slides in, uncertain, and immediately curls up on his side with his back to his brother. Dick tucks the covers over them both and curls his arm over Tim and around his chest, pulling him in closer so that Tim's back is pressed against his front.
Jason never wants to talk about his dreams; Tim seems to need to. As Dick holds him close he whispers about death and dying, but never his own demise. Tim's greatest fear is that he will lose more of the people that he loves. Dick can't promise that this will never happen, especially not taking into account what they do. But he can answer for the here and now, and he does, soothing Tim with whispered promises, "I'm here," and "I have you."
Eventually Tim will talk himself into tiredness again, and curl himself more tightly around Dick's arm. "I love you, Dick." He says sleepily, and Dick presses a kiss against the back of his neck.
"I love you, too, sweetheart."
Damian doesn't bother to be quiet, or subtle. He comes marching in, little fists and face screwed up in frustration.
"Grayson. I had another…nightmare." It is a confession and also a demand, rather than the plea to make things better that comes from Tim. "I wish to sleep with you tonight."
"Of course, Dami." Dick responds to demands or pleas when it comes to his little brothers.
The child clambers up on the bed and wriggles beneath the covers, making himself comfortable next to Dick. The elder stays lying on his back, because he thinks it is good for Damian to come closer on his own.
"Do you want to tell me what you dreamed about?" Dick asks, gently.
Some nights Damian will huff out a negative answer, and simply curl up under his brother's arm. But the child is learning how to talk about his feelings, and how to accept comfort and love, and more often than not now he will tell Dick about his dreams. They are darker since Damian saw the clones; since he realised the madness that his mother is capable of. As Damian talks he will sidle slowly closer, and before the end of his story Dick will have the little body in his arms, the little head tucked under his chin, and will be rubbing lazy circles on his brother's back.
"There is no one in the whole world exactly like you, little brother." He will assure Damian, his voice soft and sincere. "You are absolutely perfect the way you are," something the boy's mother or father should have told him, but never have.
"I love you so very much, baby." Dick whispers, and kisses the child's forehead, and his cheeks, if there are tears there.
The ten year old will fall asleep wrapped snugly in his arms, curled up against his chest, safe and secure in the knowledge that he is loved unconditionally.
And on the nights that he has nightmares? There are 3 beds he can go to, 3 brothers willing to return the favour. It is usually the one most recently hurt that Dick dreams about and consequently seeks out in the night.
Jason barely wakes; when he does sleep, he isn't woken easily. He'll half come-to when Dick slides under the covers, murmur a sleepy greeting, throw an arm over his eldest brother and snore softly after only moments.
Tim curls into him immediately, whether asleep or awake, Tim craves affection and doesn't hesitate to return it.
The first time he slips into Damian's bed, he expects scorn, confusion, or perhaps to be made to explain himself. But Damian's eyes are surprisingly soft and empathetic in the darkness.
The child cuddles into his chest and wraps his small arms around his brother, as far as they will go.
"It's all right, Grayson." He says, solemnly. "It's only a bad dream." An only slightly awkward, but completely unexpected kiss is pressed against his cheek.
"I love you," Damian tells him, then curls closer and falls back to sleep.
Perhaps the 4 of them are not so different, after all.