Chapter 8

So this is a headcanon I have, that Don would be terrified of thunderstorms as a kid, and he would always spend the night with his big brother. (Which he can do because they share a room, as we see in the comics.)

Hank gasped as a freight train smashed into his stomach at mach 8. Or at least, that was how it felt. Unable to groan for lack of air, he sat up, the python like child in his arms squeezing the life out of him. Hank tried unsuccessfully to pry the small, blond, 4 year old off his body, before squeezing out: "Don, I can't breath." The grip loosened infinitesimally, and was back at full strength at the clap of thunder that reverberated through the entire house. Hank managed to slightly shift his younger brother in his arms to increase breathing capability, and pulled Don over to his side.

"Don, it's okay, it's just thunder."

"It's scary."

"It's just noise."

"It wants to eat me." Don seemed to believe that everything he deemed scary wanted to eat him, a list that included (but was not limited to) the vacuum cleaner, the furnace, the guy next door, the blender, and any kind of pineapple. No one really understood that one. In any case, Hank wasn't quite sure what to do at this point.

"Do you want to sleep with me? I won't let it eat you."

Don nodded fervently. Hank managed to turn over, and pull the covers over both of them, as the thunder cracked once more. Hank would never again make fun of his brother for being weak. If the kid didn't let up soon, Hank was going to have cracked ribs this morning.

"You're the best big brother ever." Don whispered, not easing his grip in the slightest.

"Well I do what I can. But you know it's just because I'd never live down letting my brother be eaten on my watch."

"You're kidding, right?"

"Yeah."

"Good." The thunder went off again, and Don gave a tiny shriek, before burying his face in Hank's chest once more. Hank didn't know where the kid got this kind of endurance, but he was sure that Don was going to be very sore tomorrow if he didn't let up soon.

"Don, you've got to let go of me. You're going to hurt yourself."

"It'll eat me."

"No it won't. I won't let it."

"But I'm scared."

"You don't have to be. I got you, Don. You don't have to be scared. Let go, I'll keep you safe."

Slowly, Don began to release his brother, when the thunder boomed again. Don flinched heavily, but threw himself into a ball beside his brother, shaking wildly. Hank tightly wrapped his arms around his brother, and pulled Don close to his chest. Don began to reach out, but Hank gently kept his arms away.

"You're going to hurt yourself. You don't need to hang on to me, Don; I won't let you go. Not ever."

Don shivered, and snuggled into Hank's body, still trembling desperately. Hank snuggled his little brother close and held him firmly, whispering comfort into his baby soft hair.

"It's okay, Don. I'm here. I'll always be here."

Don relaxed in Hank's arms as much as he could with the child eating thunderstorm raging, and tried to keep from squeezing the living daylights out of his brother. He shivered in fear as Hank held him but then… Hank had him safe. And then Don knew he didn't need to be scared.