Chapter Text
Dick woke up in a cold sweat, gasping for air, cheeks wet and itchy from his tears. Untangling himself from his blankets and sheets, he hurried to get some shoes on, trying desperately to remember where he put his car keys.
Once he’d located them, he attempted to calm his breathing.
Just a dream. It was just a dream…
But he had to be 100% sure. Not even bothering to lock his apartment door, Dick ran for the stairs. He had to make sure Tim was okay.
After having pulled an all-nighter, and finally being exhausted enough to show the signs, Batman sent him home early. But it was pouring outside, lightning flashing and thunder booming so loud, Tim hadn’t been able to fall asleep. He’d tried working on his computer for a while, but the wonky wi-fi started getting to him.
His final solution? Bake a loaf of bread and wait out the storm. He’d found a couple under 2-hour recipes he’d been waiting to try out and tweak. So, Tim figured, what better time than a sleepless, rainy night?
It was as he started drifting off, waiting for his bread to bake, that he heard a desperate knocking on the door. Tim held his breath, really hoping he’d imagined that. When nothing happened after a few seconds, he started to relax, until someone started pounding on the door.
It’s ok, Tim, you’re Robin now, you can do this.
Cautiously, he walked over to the door, hand gripping the knob he called out.
“Hello?”
“Timmy? Baby bird, is that you?”
In a flash, he looked through the peephole. Not thinking twice, Tim swung the door open to find a sopping Dick Grayson staring down at him. He looked horrible, Tim registered before he was pulled into a very wet hug. His brain short-circuited, arms hovering over Dick’s back as he stood there, confused about what to do next.
“Tim,” Dick whispered hoarsely into his shoulder.
“Dick, what are you doing here?” Tim asked at last, pushing away to inspect the first Robin.
Dick’s eyes were red and puffy, though he was ghostly pale otherwise, and he was shivering with chattering teeth, almost like…
“Did…” Tim struggled with the right words, praying his deduction was wrong. “Did someone die ?”
Dick bit his lip, gripping his shoulders tighter. “I woke up,” he whimpered. “I woke up and I had to… I had to make sure…”
A nightmare?
Tim took hold of his wrists and guided him inside, closing the door behind them.
Tim never comforted anyone after a nightmare before. Actually, he barely had any comforting experience with anything. He’d dealt with some fear-gas victims before, but he knew next to nothing about what to do when he found a soaking… partner, teammate, Nightwing… on his doorstep. Logically, he could sort of figure it out, but his thoughts were swirling.
Think Tim, think. One thing at a time, what would they do in the movies? Pretend Dick is your brother, what would you do?
“Stay here, I’m going to get a towel. I don’t think I have any clothes that would fit you…” No, Tim knew he didn’t have any clothes that would fit Dick, even if he took some of his dad’s (none of which were casual). “Maybe take your jacket and shoes off. Just- just stay here.”
Quickly, Tim rushed to the bathroom, got a towel, then went back to his room to pick up the blanket off his bed and a pair of his biggest socks out of the drawer. When he came back, he found Dick still shivering in the foyer, eyes wide and locked on him. His jacket and shoes were off at least.
“Um, here?” Tim pushed the towel into Dick’s hands, who stared at it blankly. “Dick,” he tired, more commandingly, “Dick, please, dry off.”
Almost mechanically, Dick pulled the towel over his head and started rubbing his hair. Sighing in relief, Tim waited until he was done to take it back and set it aside, he could clean up later. (Sorry, Mrs. Mac.) He lifted the blanket and wrapped it around Dick’s shoulders, covering his arms.
“Come on,” he said, tugging him forward, using the edges of the blanket. “I can- I’m going to make you tea.”
Tim knew there was a box of tea bags somewhere, considering his parents drank it. He would have made coffee, because he could really use some, but that probably wasn’t a good idea for Dick.
“I’m so sorry, Tim,” Dick murmured as Tim sat him down in the kitchen, giving him the socks. “I really sorry for showing up like this, I-”
“Hey, no, Dick, it’s okay,” Tim hurried to assure him, patting his shoulder. “Don’t worry, you’re gonna be okay.”
“Thank you.” Dick averted his gaze, looking at something on the table.
“I’m going to- I’ll just- tea,” Tim stuttered out, feeling stupid and embarrassed.
He put the kettle on the stove, to heat up the while he searched for the tea. Checking the underhand cabinets, just to be sure, Tim placed his hand firmly on the counter, shoving his legs up.
“Tim! What are you doing?” He heard Dick’s horrified yelp, as he sat with his knees on the counter.
“I’m find- getting the tea,” he answered, swinging a cabinet door open. Tim looked up, spotting the box, and moved his feet under him, standing up.
“Tim,” Dick whined, rushing over to him as he climbed back down. “What were you thinking, you could have hurt yourself!”
Tim snorted, waving the box in Dick’s teary face. “This coming from the guy I’ve heard used to hang from the chandeliers. Besides, I do this all the time, haven’t fallen since I was, like, 7-”
Wait…
He pushed Dick back to the chair, sitting him down, and using the edge of the blanket to wipe his tears.
“Dick, Dick, it’s okay. What’s the matter?” Tim tried to keep the panic out of his voice. It wasn’t hard, he had years of experience in that department.
“I’m sorry,” Dick sobbed, “you- you were falling, and the Joker, he just kept laughing … I- I-.”
Tim felt his stomach sink. He hoped the instinct that always seemed to happen to people in movies would kick in already. It didn’t. Tim was going to have to do this on his own.
Setting the box of tea bags on the table, Tim opened his arms. Dick didn’t move, so he leaned forward, and very slowly, wrapped his arms around him. He wasn’t sure if he was hugging right or not, but before he could chicken out of it, Dick fell into him, head in his chest.
Lifting an arm, he let his hand rest on top of Dick’s head, motionless. They stayed like that until the kettle started whistling. Tim moved back.
He went back to the stove, turning it off. As he poured the hot water into a mug, Tim could feel Dick’s eyes on him, following him to the smallest twitch, down up till when Tim pressed the tea into his hands.
“Here, drink,” Tim instructed.
Dick took a couple sips before grimacing. Tim bit the inside of his cheeks.
“Sorry… Is it bad?” he dared ask. “I don’t really make tea, did I do it wrong?”
“It’s fine, nothing’s wrong with the tea,” Dick answered hurriedly. He opened and closed his mouth a couple times. “Tim, can I ask you something?”
“...Yes?”
Please don’t be something I don’t know how to deal with! Please, please!
“Why did you answer the door?”
“Oh.” Tim unintentionally exhaled in relief. “Because I saw you through the peephole, I wasn’t about to leave you outside.”
“No,” Dick shook his head, “I mean, why did you answer the door?”
Tim tilted his head, confused because Dick was just repeating the same question. What other interpretation was there? Tim wondered, searching his brain for a new response.
“Uh…” Quick, Tim, answer, think of an answer! “I’d never open the door for a stranger,” he settled for. “Like, kidnappers and thieves don’t usually knock, you know. I was very concerned when I saw you, so I guess I never considered that you could be an imposter. Like, why would Clayface even know who I am? And I wasn’t about to leave you out there in the cold,” Tim ended, hoping that was comforting.
It wasn’t. He messed up, terribly, he realized. Dick pursed his lips, fingers clutching the mug tighter.
“I’m sorry,” Tim apologized quickly, “I didn’t mean it like that,” whatever that is , “I- I- What I meant to say was…”
Change directions. Redirect! Bring it back to him .
“Dick.” Tim placed his hands on his hero’s shoulders firmly. “Can I ask you a question?”
Dick hummed, eyes staring into his, like he was trying to find something in there. He took that as a confirmation.
“Are you okay? You… had a nightmare, right?”
An idea popped into his head, and Tim went for a gesture Dick had done to him once, when he’d been getting frustrated with Bruce.
He brought his hand back to Dick’s head, but this time, instead of staying static, Tim brushed his hair out of his face. And then continued to card his fingers through it.
“I’m worried about you, you came here in the middle of the night, all the way from Blüdhaven…” Tim softened his expression. “It’s gonna be okay, Dick. But if you don’t want to talk to me, in a bit, maybe once the rain stops, can I call Wayne Manor? Would that be okay? I just- I don’t know… Maybe you’ll be more comfortable at home, with your family.”
Tim tried not to fidget, feeling unsure of himself.
Dick seemed to think about this, then nodded.
“Okay. Yeah, we can do that.” He kept his gaze, though watery, steady. “Tim, can I have a hug?”
Tim removed his hands. “Yes, of course,” he answered, remembering his previous studies that Dick believed hugs solved everything. Not that Tim agreed with that sentiment, but he could do that, at least, for Dick.
Dick kept watching him, expectantly. Tim twitched, feeling himself crack, hot panic filling his chest.
Oh no, did he mean right now? Do I hug him now?
Dick turned back to the tea and began drinking again, finishing, he set the mug down on the table. Tim took that to be his cue. This time when he opened his arms, Dick came to him, holding him close and firm. He shook with a couple sobs.
“Tim?”
“Yeah?”
“Thank you,” he whispered wetly.
“Would you like some bread?”
“Hello? Wayne residence, how may I help you?”
“Hello?” Tim whispered into the receiver. “Alfred, it’s Dick- No, wait, it’s Tim , but it’s about Dick.”
Tim internally groaned, feeling his face heat up from embarrassment. He’d promised Dick, who was eating bread in the kitchen, that he would be right back. But at the rate he was stumbling over his words, it would be a miracle if Alfred even understood what he said.
“Ah, Master Tim,” Alfred said, ever calm. “Whatever is the matter, lad?”
“Well… Dick is in my house…” he started, taking a deep breath. “And he had a nightmare, and I don’t know what to do, and I don’t know if he should be driving, can you pick him up?”
He somehow said in one breath, speaking no louder than a whisper.
“I understand,” Alfred answered. “I will be right over.”
“Okay, thank you.” Tim had an awkward moment, where he wasn’t sure if he was supposed to hang up on Alfred , but ended up doing it anyway.
Yes, Tim, see? You’re doing good, almost done for the night… day.
Looking out the window, Tim realized the sun was rising. The storm cloud had been so thick, he hadn’t even noticed before. Today was decidedly not going to be a good day at school. He sighed as he made his way back to the kitchen, greeted by the sight of Dick, nibbling on a handful of bread.
“This is really good, Timmy,” he said through his mouthful.
“Thanks, you’re the first person, other than me, to taste anything I make!” Tim said, feeling his blush start anew.
Dick gave him a strange look, but changed it for something more neutral quickly.
“Do you cook a lot?”
“All the time,” Tim answered, sitting across from him at the table. “I make breakfast, lunch and dinner. But Mrs. Mac brings all the groceries. And, I mean, I don’t do anything too fancy on school days, but I try.”
“That’s nice,” Dick told him, achieving a small smile. “Did, um, did Alfred answer?”
“Yeah, don’t worry,” Tim reached out a hand to put on his, “he’ll be here soon.”
“Tim- I… Thanks, a lot, for today,” Dick mumbled sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck.
“Dick.” Tim waited for him to look him in the eye. “It’s okay. I’m glad you’re okay.”
There was a polite knocking, and helping him stand up, Tim guided Dick to the front door.
“Don’t worry, you’re gonna be okay now,” he tried to reassure him, patting his elbow.
There was honestly barely any energy left in his body as he opened the door, glad to see Alfred standing there. Tim felt bad about his relief, but he knew there wasn’t much else he could do for Dick besides hand him off.
“Come along, Master Dick,” Alfred said, when Dick didn’t move. He was giving Tim a really long, puppy-dog look.
“I’m fine.” Tim patted his elbow again.
It wasn’t that he didn’t want to be around Dick, he was just so exhausted, and on top of it all, had to be getting ready for school.
“Don’t worry, I’m really all in one piece, see?” He tried lifting his arms to show him. “You should let Alfred make you cocoa, so you can feel better.”
“You’re not coming?” Dick eyes teared up and Tim internally cursed, sharing a look with Alfred.
“I wish I could Dick, I’m sorry, but I have to go to school today.”
Dick gave a pitiful sigh, lowering his gaze.
Damn it Dick...
“Well.” Tim started, giving Alfred another look. “I suppose I could come, just for a little while.”
Dick perked up immediately and wrapped him in a hug.
“Okay, Alfred,” he said, voice rough, “we can go now.”
Dragged off his own front step, Tim hoped he wouldn’t live to regret this. His parents wouldn’t be happy if his grades were affected by his attendance.
As they sat in the back seat, Tim felt Dick bury his face into his hair. The new wave of tears might have been his imagination, due to lack of sleep and the last drop of rain, though he couldn’t be too sure.
“Thank you.”
And, maybe, Tim reflected, going in for a hug, Dick Grayson was worth the smallest discrepancy in his attendance.
(Or he could just hack it later.)