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Then the door opened, and Damian had little time to react. The younger male instantly moved his hand to the knife he normally kept in his pocket—right. Ever since he moved into the manor with his father, he wasn’t allowed to keep weapons on him anymore. He huffed at the quick realization and quickly moved into a fighting stance. He wouldn’t need a stupid weapon to keep himself safe, Damian knew he could fight no matter what situation he found himself in.
Only…it wasn’t a threat that entered through his room door.
“Hey, Damian?”
That was the voice of one of his older “brothers” (as his father insisted, Damian still wasn’t convinced). Timothy hadn’t moved into the room fully yet, still standing at the doorway as if he was peeking in rather than intending to fully come in. Damian narrowed his eyes before slowly standing up straight. Timothy had no right coming into his room, especially with no warning.
“You have no authority here, barging in without knocking will gain you no favors from me.”
Damian basically growled at the other, crossing his arms in an act of defiance. Whatever Timothy wanted from him, he wouldn’t be getting now. The intrusion was unprompted. Timothy rolled his eyes–rude–and moved further into the room.
“Okay…first of all…I did knock. Many times, actually. None of us have heard from you all day…and I get your little tantrums are common…or whatever but not like this.”
Damian would have heard that. He would have, right? He knew he had been stuck in his thoughts for a couple hours but—it couldn’t have been anything longer than an hour. Damian blinked, focusing on what was in front of him again. He…couldn’t quite place the look on Timothy’s face. It was almost like some kind of guilt…but what did he have to feel guilty for? Barging into Damian’s room? Yeah. That was something to feel guilty about but—that wasn’t it. Damian could tell.
“I am fine. I do not need you all coddling me constantly. It is unnecessary considering the fact I can handle myself”
That caused Timothy to frown for a small moment, such a small moment no one would catch it but Damian would. Damian always did. He found himself more upset than when no one was in the room, when he was alone he didn’t have to feel this…this pity. He did not need pity! He was strong! He did not need—
Timothy moved quietly, quieter than Damian thought he ever could, and pulled him into a hug. He let out a small huff and tried to push him away. Timothy didn’t budge. Not even an inch.
“I don’t need this–”
Damian started talking, feeling the hug around him tighten. It was nicer than he wanted to admit.
“–This pity! It is insulting. I am…I am strong.”
“I know.”
“I am! You sound as if you do not believe the words I am saying—you all treat me as if I am a child. I am not! I am more than that! I am a trained assassin!”
“I believe you, Damian.”
Was that really all he needed to hear? Was it what he was avoiding? Damian felt his cheeks getting wet, he roughly tried to dry them as the sniffles started. This interaction reminded him of when he was with Grayson–it was…nice. Timothy just held him there, in the middle of the room, in silence. He didn’t have to say anything else, the energy switched so much. Damian found himself completely sobbing into his older brother’s chest. He thinks he’s okay with using that title for Timothy…for now.