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Dick had somehow managed to convince Damian that they should have a movie night instead of going out in capes and cowl that night. The penthouse had a nice little movie room, little compared to the one at the manor anyway, and despite Damian being increasingly grouchy and snippy over the past few days, Dick was determined to have a relaxing evening in where he didn’t have to worry about being shot at or punched or any of the other million things that could happen anytime they went out on patrol.
He was in a good mood as he jauntily strolled into the room. “Okay, so I found some Oreos, a bag of sour cream and onion potato chips, and some grape Fanta…” He trailed off as soon as he saw Damian. “What’s wrong?” he asked, his good mood slipping away as he immediately went on alert and started scanning the room for danger. “What happened?”
“Richard. There is something wrong with me. I think I’ve been drugged,” Damian gasped out. Each sentence was forced out between wheezing breaths. His knees were drawn up to his chest and his arms were wrapped tightly around his legs, and he was rocking a little in place, tears dripping out of eyes that kept flicking around the room, no doubt searching for the same danger Dick was.
Dick dropped the snacks on the couch and practically sprinted to Damian’s side. He crouched down beside him. “Robin, report,” he demanded, heart thrumming with panic. He couldn’t see any injuries, but that didn’t mean anything from the way Damian was curling in on himself protectively.
Damian whimpered and tilted his head down to rest on his knees, hiding his face from Dick’s view. Dick reached out to touch his arm, and Damian flinched when he made contact. He actually flinched, the boy who didn’t blink when he was getting shrapnel removed from his leg, who didn’t back down when he was cornered by a supervillain, who faced bad odds and still managed to come out on top. Dick drew his hand back.
“Okay, Damian, I won’t touch you. Can you get downstairs so we can run some tests?”
Damian shook his head, still not looking at Dick. He sobbed suddenly, and Dick had a sinking feeling that this wasn’t drugs or some kind of villainous attack.
“That’s alright. I want you to take a few deep breaths for me. Can you do that?”
Damian didn’t answer, so Dick waited. Every second felt like an eternity, and after what felt like ten years Damian sounded like he’d stopped crying, or at least at slowed enough that his sobs weren’t as loud.
“Damian, I think you’re having a panic attack,” Dick said calmly, fighting the adrenaline that was running through him and making his muscles itch for movement. “I know you’re scared, but just try to breathe and it will pass.”
Damian mumbled a very unconvincing, “Not scared.”
Dick waited a moment, but Damian didn’t say anything else. “I’m going to go get you some water, okay?” he said. He started to stand, but Damian’s head snapped up, a panicked look on his face.
“No!” he cried, then his pale face flushed and in a smaller voice he said, “I mean, okay. You can go.”
Dick’s heart squeezed and he crouched back down. “I’ll stay, if you want. I won’t go anywhere.”
Damian almost looked like he was going to start crying again, but he rested the side of his face on top of his knees so at least this time Dick could still see his face. He was shaking minutely, shivering tremors running through his body.
“Do you need anything?” Dick asked quietly.
Damian shook his head in a tiny jerking movement.
Dick felt helpless. “Do you want a hug?”
“I don’t know,” Damian said miserably. He looked miserable, too, hunched up as small as he could get on the floor, like the room was too big around him, like he was unprotected.
Dick had a sudden idea and he stood up. “Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere,” he said reassuringly, and the sudden alarm that had appeared on Damian’s face faded.
He tossed the bag of chips and other snacks out of the way and started pulling the cushions and pillows off the couch, trying to pretend like Damian’s hitching, uneven breaths weren’t setting off alarm signals in his brain. He set the cushions up behind the couch, fortifying them with pillows beside them on the ground. Satisfied with the placement of the cushions, he grabbed all the blankets they had in the basket in the corner and started draping them over the back of the couch and over the cushions, creating the perfect blanket fort.
“Damian, can you come here?” he asked, surveying his work before looking at Damian.
Damian blinked at him like he didn’t understand, like the effort of ‘get up’ and ‘come here’ was so monumental an ask that his brain simply couldn’t comprehend it. Dick knew what that felt like, when your brain was lagging like a browser with too many tabs open, so he again waited for Damian to make a move or a sound, to set the pace for the moment.
Slowly, Damian uncurled himself and stood up, panting as the movement made him lose his breath again, and trudged over to stand near Dick. It didn’t escape Dick’s notice that he stopped just on the edge of arm’s reach, like he wanted to be close, but didn’t want to be touched.
“Come on,” Dick said, sitting down and pulling aside the blankets. He scooted inside the fort, folding up his legs so he’d fit.
“W-what?” Damian asked, blinking at him, hands twitching at his sides.
“It’s a blanket fort,” Dick explained.
Damian looked at the fort for a long moment, then, slowly, he went down on his knees and crawled inside.
It was warm and close in the fort, but Dick pressed himself away from Damian as far as he could to give him space. Once he was in, Dick dropped the entrance blanket, and the fort got dark.
The blankets muffled the outside sounds of the penthouse so all Dick could hear was the sounds of their breathing and Damian’s sniffles. He waited a few minutes before he spoke, letting Damian acclimate.
“Is it better in here?”
“Yeah,” came Damian’s reply, his voice thick from crying but already a little stronger. He cleared it with a little cough, and said, “Thank you.”
“No problem,” Dick said, and left it at that. Half the battle of getting Damian to talk was getting him comfortable; the other half was giving him space to think about what he wanted to say. Dick wasn’t always patient, but right now he didn’t have anything on his mind beside the boy sitting next to him.
“I don’t know what triggered it,” Damian said eventually. He sounded worn out. “Nothing happened. I was just sitting there, and next thing I knew I was crying and I couldn’t breathe.”
“There doesn’t always have to be a single trigger,” Dick said carefully. If you were too gentle with Damian, he’d think you were babying him, but Dick didn’t want to be too blunt with him while he was still feeling bad. “Sometimes it’s a bunch of little things that build up until you hit a certain threshold, and then your brain can’t handle the stress anymore so it sends out an alarm in the form of a panic attack.”
Damian made a considering noise. “I guess I have been a little more… affected lately by things.” There was a shuffling noise, and then Damian said, “Richard, I apologize for letting this affect me.” He sounded contrite, like he’d done something wrong, like he had a reason to feel guilty.
“There’s nothing to apologize for. It’s a pretty natural response to a lot of stress, but just because it’s natural doesn’t mean it doesn’t suck. I’m honestly surprised it hasn’t happened to you before. I’m really glad it hasn’t happened before, but at least if it happens again you’ll be able to recognize it. Tomorrow we can talk about how to prevent it and what to do if it happens again.” Dick was pretty sure Damian was going to try to dodge the conversation, or deny that tonight had happened, but Dick didn’t want to talk about how to deal with a panic attack while he was just coming out of having a panic attack. That conversation would have to be put off whether he had to trap Damian into it later or not.
“You aren’t going to bench me?” Damian asked, sounding both suspicious and hopeful.
“Do you think taking some time off would help?” Dick asked, knowing full well what the answer was going to be.
The “No!” was immediate and too loud for the small space.
“That’s what I thought. And anyway, if I benched you you’d probably just sneak out after me anyway and add to my stress levels. If, in the future, I think you need some time off, we’ll talk about it then, but for right now, no, you’re not benched.”
They fell silent for a while. Dick could almost hear Damian thinking and processing what had happened, and Dick let him take his time. His breathing was a lot steadier now, and that made it easier for Dick to breathe.
Dick held very still when Damian shifted over to lean against him.
“Sorry I ruined movie night,” Damian whispered, head heavy on Dick’s shoulder.
Dick rested his hand on Damian’s head and gently stroked his fingers through his hair. “I mean, it wasn’t ruined. Just delayed. We can still watch a movie, if you’re feeling up to it, and if you aren’t we can just postpone to another night. Nothing was ruined.”
“Okay,” Damian said softly.
“Okay for the movie, or okay for postponing?”
“Movie.”
In the dark, Dick leaned over and pressed a gentle kiss on Damian’s hair. “Okay, movie it is.”