I had a crappy week. I needed some Dick and Damian comfort times.

He didn't know how it happened, not really. One second, he was there, in Gotham, watching Abuse and Batgirl take down some car thieves, when his mind wandered slightly to the vague information given at his mother's last visit. The next? Well, the next he was in Grayson's Chicago apartment, watching as his two roommates walked out the door, calling out their goodbyes.

As soon as he heard the door lock click, he scrunched up his nose, looking around his brother's new abode. It was similar to the Gotham apartment, and in all the worst ways. Small spaces, tacky decorations, windows misshapen in their frames. But Grayson wasn't dead yet, so that was…something.

Damian continued to glance around, feeling his initial curiosity quickly giving way to a heavy sense of dread. The walls fell, and vulnerability took hold of his soul. For once, he felt like he was the child he always pretended he wasn't. He was nervous, twitchy, paranoid, defensive-

Scared.

He was scared.

Talia's visit had shaken him. Not her herself. No he knew that was coming. He even expected a family reunion between the woman, himself and his clone. But her threats. They gave the air of being more than what they seemed. That Talia was only a messenger of sorts, and the real storm was on its way. That Damian may have been the target, but he wouldn't be the only victim, living or dead.

And that…

That filled him with a fear he couldn't put into words.

But of course, Damian wasn't one to get scared easily. He fought murderers and torturers, was in life-and-death situations, like it was part of his breakfast routine. Fear wasn't a normal emotion for Damian Wayne, especially when he was the one in danger. But that didn't mean he never experienced it.

And when he did?

Well, he went to Dick Grayson.

It had been an unspoken ritual, one that no one really picked up for, save maybe his Father. After all, it wasn't a frequent occurrence; therefore there was no real pattern to it. But whenever the panic hit him, he'd run to his older brother in any way he could. Dick, he realized, was the only one who'd ever seen him truly scared before. When they thought Bruce was dead? He came to live with the former Robin in Gotham. (Potentially the start of the non-existent pattern, if anyone was keeping real notes. Though it could have been an outlier, since this was before either of them could comprehend how important they were to each other.) After he figured out his mother put mind-control implants in his spine? He stayed at the computer with the Batman, even when the elder told him to go get some sleep, as he searched the woman out. When Talia threw a bounty on his life? No one but Bruce knew it, but he and his mentor had spent a week at Dick's old Bludhaven apartment. After the Joker attacked them all? He asked Dick to go back to the bunker, where they sparred for six hours before playing video games for another three and gorging themselves out on pizza.

So obviously his body – or paranormal abilities or something – acted against his mind on instinct. He had thought of the meeting with his mother, and that stab of fear – the one he couldn't have when trying to protect his younger brother – surged through his veins. His defenses kicked in, sending him somewhere he would feel safe.

And he always felt safe with Grayson.

Damian felt himself swallow as he began to move around the apartment. Thus far, there was no evidence to even show that Grayson was home, let alone that this was his apartment at all. He was travelling down the hallway when his ear picked up on soft music coming from one of the rooms. He walked in that direction until he reached a door where the music was loudest. Instead of knocking he just walked through the wood. Grayson was on the other side, sitting on his bed with his laptop on his knees, headphones stuffed in his ears. Damian felt himself relax instantly.

Dick paused in his typing and glanced up. The air in his room suddenly changed, becoming colder and heavier. Sadder, almost. His arms involuntarily shuddered as he removed an ear bud, listening to hear if the heater was running or not. After a moment, he determined it was, and got up to see why the airflow was cut off to his room. He opened his door and was hit with the wave of heat instantly. Dumbfounded, he stood in the threshold, glancing between room and hallway for a minute, testing the different temperatures over the three-foot space, before his eyes widened.

"Damian?" he whispered. Damian felt his face contort into one of disbelief. "You here?"

"How do you figure?" Damian mumbled.

After a moment, Dick elaborated on his own. "I researched some stuff about ghosts. General consensus is spirits can manifest whatever emotions they're feeling onto the living. Oh, and cold spots. Apparently cold spots are big thing." The man came back into the room and closed the door, leaning against it. "The flashlights are over there, by the way. You know, in case you want to use them or something."

Damian glanced over to the desk by the window. Sure enough, two flashlights sat parallel on the desk, away from the mess of papers and envelopes. Slowly, he felt his eyebrows knit together.

"You okay, Damian?" Dick's voice was still gentle. "I mean, the, uh, feeling of the room seems different than a few minutes ago, is all. A little bit more…" his voice trailed off. "Just…go hit one of the lights if you're really here. Let's start there."

Damian nodded in agreement, then rolled his eyes at his own idiocy. Grayson couldn't see him, he thought as he walked to the desk. He alternated hitting both lights for a few seconds before stopping all together.

"Okay," Dick's voice rose and it was a losing battle, trying to keep the grin off of his face. "Good. This is good. Well, you being here, that's good. This feeling though?" The smile dropped completely. "Damian, what's going on?"

Damian opened his mouth to respond, but found that he couldn't. Because he didn't know. He had no idea what was going on. All he knew was that he was scared. But he didn't know why. And that's what made everything worse.

"Alright, Damian. It's okay," Dick suddenly said, moving towards the bed. "You're scared. I get that. I…feel that. You don't have to say it, though…ha, I wouldn't even be able to tell if you did. We don't have to talk about it right now, if you don't want. Just…come over here." He plopped down on the mattress and patted it with his hand. "Come sit with me."

It must have been a force of habit, because Damian felt himself move at the command before his brain realized what was even said. He fell against the covers, closest to the nightstand. After a stretch of silence, he reached out a flicked a pen. Dick's eyes immediately narrowed in on it and he grinned again.

"Tell me what's on your mind, Damian."

"I…am afraid." Damian admitted quietly. "Something is going to happen soon, but I don't know what. I don't know who's in danger and I don't know what I can do to prevent it."

Damian knew Dick couldn't hear a word he was saying in the slightest. But he still felt better for the fact that his brother was there, trying to read him in any way he could.

"She made me bleed. Grayson, Mother made me bleed and I'm already dead. How is that even possible? How could she…? Is there something she knows about death that I don't? Is it possible that even in the afterlife she is a powerful being? What if whatever this thing is I'm not strong enough? What if I'm just a maggot comparatively to her and all of the other enemies coming this way? What-"

"Shhh," Dick suddenly shushed. Damian's mouth clamped shut when he realized he was becoming frantic. His brother couldn't hear him, but in that moment, he'd lost control of his emotions and forced his mentor to feel the panic. He tried to avoid it, but shame flowed through his body. Dick just smiled wider, looking down to where he believed Damian's height was. Damian was slightly disturbed that he was relatively close. "Everything will be okay, Damian."

And that smile was so sincere. So realistic, Damian couldn't help but believe it. He slumped against Dick's shoulder, hard enough that he knew the man had to have felt something and glanced up at him. "Are you sure?"

Dick rocked slightly, and Damian could tell Dick was trying to force his smile to not turn sad, but he was slowly failing. "Trust me on this, Damian. Have I ever been wrong before?"

"Many times."

"Okay, well, don't answer that one. It was rhetorical anyway." Dick laughed at his own joke. He paused, and Damian assumed he was trying to read his emotion again. "I know you're still not okay, kid. And I know I can't help, and there's really nothing I can do but…would you stick around for a while?"

Damian pursed his lips in thought. He really should be following up leads on his mother, trying to figure out what spirit-magic she used to attack him, attempting to get ahead of her game, making sure his clone doesn't-

"Just a little while. Like, an hour or something. Maybe two." Dick's voice turned to a whisper again. "…for me? Please?"

Damian sighed and rolled his eyes, but reached his leg out and kicked the pen on the nightstand again. Dick smiled and shifted, moving back against his pillows as he picked his laptop back up. Damian followed suit, curling into Dick's side, watching as he unplugged his headphones (so Damian could listen to his music too, no doubt) and continued to type an email to Tim.

It only took a few minutes before Dick began to babble, just like old times. His voice was soothing, the mundane situation, tranquil. He didn't need to sleep, not like he really could of course, but Damian felt his eyelids steadily start to fall. Dick paused in his rambles to smile once more before sighing contently as he continued on.

No, Damian mused, echoing the sigh, a few hours at Grayson's wouldn't hurt. Not in the slightest.