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Dick looks at Wally’s sleeping form, still and comfortable on their bed. He was like the redhead, an hour or so ago, but the return of an all too familiar nightmare threw a wrench in his plans. Normally, after waking up from a nightmare, he’d up and leave the bedroom to avoid the risk of waking Wally, or even go back on patrol, but this time he can’t. Can’t bring himself to leave Wally after what he just saw.
“Your eyes are pretty, Dick, but for the love of god please stop staring at me.”
Dick bites his lip to refrain from making a shocked noise. “Don’t worry about it, Walls. Go back to sleep.”
“Can’t.”
Wisps of concern rise in Dick’s stomach. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” Wally whispers. “just a nightmare. Nothing new.”
And really, it’s not. You can’t do what they do and not have a nightmare at least once a weak. It’s not ideal, but it’s a side effect of the life they lead. They don’t often get to sleep normal hours, and when they can, they’re often interrupted by demons they thought long-defeated. A bitter, yet unavoidable truth.
Dick almost asks him if he wants to talk about it, but he also knows better than to do so; Wally, for all his charming smiles and unbearable jokes, is not willing to put the burden of his unpleasant thoughts on others. It’s best to let him make the first move, Dick finds.
As he expected, Wally shifts and opens his mouth to speak. “It was that simulation; you know, the one where M’gann went all blagh and gave us all a special little taste of death?” Dick feels his skin run cold at the memory all over again. “I don’t know why I’m getting nightmares about it now, but. Yeah.”
Dick shuffled over to his boyfriend and wrapped him up in his arms. “Funny. I had the same dream.”
“Yeah?” Wally asks, vulnerable and voice small.
“Yeah.” Dick presses his nose into Wally’s fluffy-fluffy head of hair. The smell of his shampoo gives Dick a brief, but treasured reminder than they are both here and well.
They don’t say anything more about it. The situation was horrible, and Dick clearly remembers how it felt, to be ready to sacrifice his life for the safety of others with his best friend by his side, but it wasn’t pleasant to think about. He faces death every time he puts on his Nightwing suit—hell, even his police uniform—and yet the one experience he had that came close to it is the most gut-wrenching, horrendous thing he’s ever had the displeasure of experiencing.
His arms tighten around Wally out of habit, trying to remind himself that they were both alive, both well, that what they experienced hadn’t even been real. They were teenagers when they died together, and yet here they were a few years later, trying to pick up the pieces of themselves with little success.
The upside? Their broken shards seem to fit perfectly together.