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Damian woke up with a silent scream, sweat rolling off his skin as he breathed heavily. Tears were streaming down his face, whimpers exiting his mouth without his permission as flashes of the nightmare his cruel mind created came running back to him. But Damian knew, he knew that what he just saw in his head weren't made up. No, they were the memories of a life he once knew.
Soft touches that would turn to painful strikes at the smallest slip up. A gentle, soothing tone that was cruel and harsh when it was time to reprimand him for his foolish mistakes. Identical green eyes that were once looking at him in love and adoration, shifted into cold ones that gazed at him in such disappointment.
He loved his mother, even if she never loved him back. Because even when she used to look at with such love, a hidden sense of hatred was always inside of her, buried deep down, never shown to anyone until she deemed him old enough to see it. Talia Al Ghul did not love Damian Wayne, but Damian Wayne did.
He was snapped out of his thoughts when he heard sounds downstairs, his eyebrows furrowing. Who could be up at this hour? He slowly took the covers off, noticing that there was an extra blanket placed on him, one he was certain he saw in Timothy's room three days ago. He shook it off, standing up to place his bunny slippers on, a gift from Grayson, and as much as he claimed to not like it, the material of the item was so soft he couldn't resist.
He was sure that if dear mother saw him right now, he'd be punished on the spot. Wearing a too large red hoodie, that must've belonged to Todd at some point, and soft black cotton pants with the ridiculous slippers on his feet. He looked too 'comfortable' in a place that was supposed to he training him to be a soldier, not a...child.
Because when he first came here, a tiny eight year old full of anger and confusion at a father he's never known, all he did was push people away and hurt them, either with his words or with his sword. But after loud fights, green eyes glaring at four identical blue ones, clenched fists and gritted teeth, father sat down with him.
He did something his mother never did, he communicated with him. Asked him what he didn't like, and why, and how he could fix this. Father ignored Damian's comment on 'not handling something so unimportant', and crouched down in front of him, telling him in a gentle tone that Damian was important, in fact, Damian was a priority, his discomfort and feelings were all considered important.
And although Damian would never admit to anyone, but he burst into tears the second his father deemed him important, and threw himself into his father's strong, protective arms. That day, the rest of it was spent establishing boundaries with the rest of the family, informing them of Damian's uncertainty and anxiousness.
So now, as he walked downstairs with his childish attire on, a stuffed bat in his fists, a small smile decorated his face when he heard Todd's familiar voice judging one of the characters on the television.
He looked at them to see Drake, sprawled out next to Todd on the couch, snickering at Todd's comment, mouth full of popcorn. Grayson was sitting on the recliner next to the couch, half asleep with his chin on his hand, a half eaten M&Ms bag on top of him. And Father was typing something on his laptop, adding his own comments every once in a while. Overall, they looked relaxed, and Damian, like the selfish person he thought of himself as, was about to disturb them with his childish needs.
He must've stood there too long because Grayson suddenly woke up and spotted him, giving him a soft smile as he placed the chocolate bag on the table beside him.
"Come here baby." Grayson said, his voice soft as he opened his arms for Damian, chuckling when Damian almost ran to him. He threw himself in his brother's arms, hiding his face in the crook of Grayson's neck, snuggling further into the warmth.
Jason turned around to see his youngest brother in Dick's arms, only to see Tim and Bruce looking at them worriedly. It's not everyday the little brat openly runs for affection, and although the kid got better at this whole emotion thing, he still faced some troubles. So in conclusion, something was wrong. And Jason does not like it when something is wrong, especially when its related to the baby of the family. Who currently had tears running down his chubby cheeks. No, Jason doesn't fucking like this.
Dick looked down to see Damian crying, little sniffles heard from him as he buried himself into his Dick's chest, making the older man tighten his hold on him. And based on the shaking and quiet whimpers, his little bat must've had a nightmare. A scary one for that. Bruce stood up to move closer to his sons, reaching to stroke his baby's black curls gently, and leaning down to kiss his forehead.
"Nightmare, sweetheart?" Bruce cooed, rubbing his son's back as the whimpers slowly increased. At the nod he recieved, he continued to whisper reassurances and comforting words to his youngest, making sure that the boy was listening.
"It's okay kiddo, we're all here baby. You're safe, no one can hurt you here. No one can take you from us sweetheart."
He continued until he heard the whimpers die out, only to see his two other children move closer to comfort their baby brother. He smiled softly at the scenario in front of him.
Dick rocking Damian back and forth to soothe him, while Jason was holding the stuffed bat and acting out a gruff voice for the bat, moving the toy's arms and booping Damian's nose with it, making the little boy giggle at the feeling. Tim was cooing soothing words and praises to the boy, who held his older brother's hand with his own tiny one.
As their baby calmed down, Bruce kissed all his children goodnight, only Jason rolling his eyes but sported a soft smile nonetheless, he went to his own bedroom with a sigh at the loud giggles and happy shrieks he heard from the living room, knowing Tim was torturing Damian's little tummy with tickling it again.