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From what Tim can gather by watching Bernard, dead week is absolute hell.
Bernard stays up for hours at a time studying, and the only sleep he gets is when Tim manages to wrangle him into joining his daily power naps, a habit Tim started when his own sleep deprivation had gotten out of hand. The last two days however, he’s been unsuccessful in his attempts, so he just waits for Bernard to burn himself out.
And he does.
At about two in the morning in Tim’s apartment Bernard finally nods off over his notes while Tim is making himself a cup of tea. He hears a light thunk and turns to see Bernard face down on the table, hair sprawled out and highlighter sliding out of his hand.
“Oh thank god,” Tim sighs. He puts the kettle down on the stove and quietly makes his way to Bernard’s side. Tim gently picks Bernard up bridal style and holds his breath as he carries him to his room. He lays Bernard down on his bed, pulling the comforter over him and brushing Bernard’s hair out of his eyes. “ Night Berns, ” he whispers, kissing him on the forehead and watching his chest slowly rise and fall with every breath. Bernard’s mouth is parted just the tiniest bit and Tim smiles to himself at how peaceful he looks.
He goes back to finish making his cup of tea and sits down at the table to start working through some reports. It’s peaceful and quiet until about two hours later when Tim hears his door creak open. He watches in confusion as Bernard stands in the doorway and stares straight forward at nothing before slowly taking stiff steps into the living area.
“Hey Bee, aren't you tired?” Tim asks. Bernard doesn’t make any move to acknowledge Tim’s question and continues walking. He gets to the fridge and grips the handle, pulling weakly a few times before giving up and turning to the table where Tim is. Bernard pulls out the chair he had been studying in earlier and sits down awkwardly, notes and laptop closed in front of him while his blank hooded stare is pointed in Tim’s direction. Tim raises an eyebrow. “You ok?”
Bernard sighs and continues to sit. Eventually he reaches out and grasps the capped highlighter upside down, and Tim watches as he runs the bottom over a closed notebook almost like he was trying to highlight something.
Oh .
He’s sleepwalking .
If it weren’t for how funny Bernard looked, Tim might’ve felt worse because causes of sleepwalking were stress and sleep deprivation, which his poor boyfriend had plenty of from the past week.
Bernard was studying even in his dreams , the poor guy.
Tim decides to wait a bit and see if Bernard eventually taps out and walks himself back to bed or wakes up, and after a few minutes Bernard does get up. However he instead walks back into the kitchen. Tim tilts his head, wondering what Bernard could be doing in his head this time.
He watches Bernard pull the utensil drawer open and reach for the blade of a serrated knife.
Tim jumps out of his chair.
“ Woah woah woah! How about we don’t grab the sharp object yeah?” Tim rushes out, snatching Bernard’s hand away and closing the drawer. Bernard’s jolts and blinks rapidly at the sudden contact. “Hey you with me now?” Tim asks.
“Oh shit… Tim?” Bernard asks, swaying a bit in place. Tim puts an arm around his waist and guides him back to the bedroom.
“That’s my name, you were sleepwalking,” he says and pushes the door open with his foot.
“Damn, haven't done that in a while,” Bernard mumbles. Tim frowns.
“You used to sleepwalk?” he asks. Bernard hums.
“Yeah… a lot actually, now that I think about it. We had to put a lock on my door cus’ I kept doing stuff.”
Tim wants to know what stuff entails, but he figures Bernard is a little too tired to handle another round of questions.
“Alright well I’ll lie down with you this time. Go back to sleep,” Tim says. He lets Bernard collapse back onto the bed before he shoves him over to the other side so he can slip under the covers. Tim wraps his arms around Bernard’s waist and pulls his back up against his chest, feeling Bernard’s breaths even out as he falls back asleep.
-----
It happens again when Bernard gets into a fight with his parents and stays over at Tim’s for a few days, though this time they had a visitor.
Dick had popped in one night and decided to crash in Tim’s place so they could, as Dick put it, “ bond ”. Or as Tim put it, “ haggle me into letting you interrogate my boyfriend ”.
Tim was worried about it being too much for Bernard, but he took it in stride. Bernard, ever the sweet talker, had caught him by surprise and kept up with his poking and prodding. But Tim knew that the fight with his parents coupled with his constant effort to not stutter and throw up while talking to Tim’s brother, Bernard was gonna short circuit and pass out when they finally go to bed.
And he did.
Tim says goodnight to Dick who decides to sleep on the couch instead of in the guest room like a weirdo, and snorts when he sees Bernard sprawled face down on the bed. He gets into bed and follows him soon after.
--
Dick is finally about to fall asleep when he sees movement in the corner of his eye. He shoots up off the couch and squints to find the source.
It’s Bernard walking out from Tim’s bedroom in a pair of flannel pants and nothing else.
“Oh it’s just you. Scared the shit outta me, thought you were a ninja or something,” Dick says. He figures Bernard would laugh it off and quip back but he doesn’t. In fact, he doesn’t even crack a smile. Dick frowns and watches Bernard blow him off in favor of going to the front door.
The hell?
Bernard stops in front of the door and reaches out for the handle, huffing when it doesn’t open when he twists it. Dick gets up and creeps toward him. Bernard starts unlatching the locks and miming the gestures for twisting the key when it finally clicks in Dick’s head.
Sleepwalking.
He had seen his family do it plenty of times, even doing it himself on the rare occasion, so he caught on pretty quick.
Figuring Bernard would do better with someone familiar waking him up, Dick goes to get Tim.
He steps into the room and Tim is curled up in bed, the sheets on what he’s assuming to be Bernard’s side scrunched up against him, and as much as he hates to do it, gently nudges Tim awake.
“ Hey Timmy, I think Bernard could use your help, ” he whispers. Tim’s face scrunches up and looks up to Dick at the mention of his boyfriend’s name.
“What? What’s wrong?” Tim asks sleepily, rubbing his eyes.
“He’s sleepwalking and trying to get out of the apartment, but seeing as it’s snowing right now and he’s wearing only pajama pants, I don’t think that’s the wisest of choices,” Dick replies. That seems to wake him up and Tim gets out of bed quick, striding out of the room. Dick follows him and Tim slows down when he finds Bernard fiddling with the locks on the door. He carefully steps up behind him, gently placing a hand on Bernard’s back and reaching out with his other hand to fix all the locks. Bernard immediately reaches out to undo them again but Tim catches his hand. It’s almost like Tim was expecting something because Dick sees him frown after a minute.
“Hey, let’s go back to bed, yeah? No reason to leave,” Tim says softly. Bernard’s head tilts toward him and he points at the door.
“S’ cold,” he slurs. Tim nods and gently pulls Bernard’s away from it.
“I know Berns, and that’s why we can’t go out there. You’re only wearing pants,” he explains, though it’s futile as Bernard appears to still be asleep, and there really was no arguing with him. Bernard shakes his head.
“Snow, wanna… cold. Feel cold ,” Bernard mumbles.
“Uh huh, snow…is cold, yeah,” Tim says confused.
“I think he’s saying he wants to feel it,” Dick explains, “That’s why he was trying to get out.” Tim nods slowly and presses his lips in a thin line. Dick can tell he’s biting the inside of his cheek, a habit he knew meant Tim was sorting something out in his head.
“How about with me in the bed? Sound good?” Tim tries. Bernard doesn’t respond and Tim huffs, looking to Dick for help.
“Last time he woke up by this point, but I scared him and I read that was bad for them so I’d rather not do that. What did you do for us?” he asks.
“Well normally if we couldn’t wake them up we’d just sit with them until they tired themselves out, which was a lot of letting them indulge in whatever they were doing while keeping them from getting hurt. I honestly don’t see the harm in letting him feel the snow, just go on your balcony. It might even wake him up,” Dick says. Tim sighs.
“Can you open the door please?” he asks. Dick nods and goes to open the balcony door, stepping to the side to let Tim guide Bernard out into the cold.
“Here you go Berns. Snow,” Tim says, tired and gentle. Bernard steps out and Dick winces as he watches bare feet sink into the snow. Tim grabs a cushion off one of the deck chairs and puts it on the ground to stand on so he can be next to Bernard, but that quickly defaults to its original purpose as Bernard sinks down to the floor.
“Wait that’s- you know what, go for it,” Tim relents, sitting down on the cushion. Bernard sits with his legs stretched out in front of him, snow steadily melting and soaking through the pants, and stretches his palms out in the snow. He crunches it in his hands and rubs it around, and Dick looks at Tim resting his head on his hand while he watches Bernard with a little smile on his face.
Dick’s happy that his little brother found someone he can smile like that at.
The cold does get to him eventually though, and Bernard slows his movements while he starts to look uncomfortable.
“You done making a snow castle?” Tim laughs. Bernard looks around and grimaces.
“ The hell ?” he says, rough and disoriented. Tim rubs his back.
“Sleepwalking,” he says, “Dick came and got me when you tried to get out the front door. You wanted to see the snow.”
Bernard blinks slowly and hums. Tim pats him on the back and stands up, pulling Bernard up with him. Bernard shudders.
“Pants are wet.”
“You were sitting in the snow babe.”
Dick snorts and Tim drags Bernard back inside.
“S’rry Dick,” Bernard says when he stumbles by him.
“Don’t worry! Nothing I haven’t seen before. Night!” he says. Both boys mumble goodnight back and Dick settles back onto the couch.
--
Bernard switches his flannel pants out for Tim’s sweats and adds a shirt with Tim’s insistence to get him warm again.
“Back in bed idiot,” Tim says, yawning. Bernard doesn’t need to be told twice and he flops back into the blankets. Tim gets in and Bernard immediately drags him towards him so he can curl around him
“You’re warm,” he says against Tim’s side.
“You’re cold,” Tim shoots back, “I dunno why you would willingly sit in that.” Bernard shrugs.
“Sleep me probably wanted to feel it so I could come back,” he says. Tim stares at the ceiling.
“You mean like wake up?” Tim asks.
“I mean, yeah? Technically that’s what would happen if i’m asleep, but I probably convinced myself I had mentally tapped out as if I was awake. It’s like uhm… like you zone out super hard? So you try and find something you can feel to snap you out of it,” he explains. Tim knows what he’s talking about, the feeling of dissociation. “But it’s kinda hard to register a pinch on your arm with a high pain tolerance. One time I burnt my hand on a stove before my mom could wake me up.”
Bernard yawns and leans into Tim more while Tim reels over that last comment.
“You burnt your hand ?” he says, very concerned over how nonchalantly Bernard had recounted that.
“Was a while ago. ‘S better now,” Bernard mumbles, nodding off. Tim doesn’t press, letting Bernard fall back asleep, but he decides that starting tomorrow he was baby proofing his apartment.
He remembers the first time Bernard sleepwalked and how he reached for the serrated knife. It made sense now . Grabbing the blade would cut his hand and shock him enough to wake him up.
He was going to tie a damn bell around Bernard’s ankle every night.