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Damian is warm in his arms.
Not surprising since he's been sitting so close to the fireplace when Dick had found him not even ten minutes ago. Dick, as a good Bat, had even used it as an excuse to get to hold his brother and sneak a cuddle in the greeting hug he had tackled him with.
Dick snickers against Damian’s soft hair, for once not full of gel, and soaks in the grumbles his brother mumble until he finally catches on to the fact that he has been bested this time around.
So, like a good sport, Damian settles with an annoyed huff, but Dick sees through the facade in the way the teen practically melts against him. Hah, same old dance since he was ten, really.
‘Some things never change’, Dick thinks, amused, tightening his hold around his brother as he settles on the floor with him, his back hitting the several pillows his brother had laid out almost like a nest for himself.
“Getting too old for this, Richard.” Damian tries to plea his case but Dick just scoffs, over the top and dramatic enough for Damian to roll his eyes at him.
“You could have gray hair and still be my baby brother.” Dick reminds him as always, brushing his fingers on his brother’s side to earn a reluctant laugh.
“Richard, do not. You know I hate — shit!” Damian complains through his snickers as he tries to glare at him over his shoulder. Oh no, Dick’s shaking on his boots. Pff. “Richard! I’m fifteen years old.”
Fifteen years old indeed, Dick thinks with awe, unable to grasp where the years had gone by when it feels just like yesterday when Damian had been just ten years old, hands so small and baby fat still lingering on his cheeks.
He's almost all sharp cheekbones now, Dick realizes when he manages to sneak a kiss on each cheek, laughing at the faux gagging noises he gets for openly loving his family. My gosh.
“What has gotten into you?” Damian asks, bemused, and Dick — Dick's not entirely sure, he only knows that the memory of his brother being ten years old it’s suddenly too vivid in his head.
He doesn’t really dwell on it much, though. He just loves his brother. He loves how much he has grown up in every sense since he met him all those years ago. He has come a long way and Dick’s just so heartbroken.
Dick blinks, bewildered. No. No, he’s proud. Of course, he’s proud, not heartbroken, why would he be —?
‘Although…’ Dick thinks as he looks down at his brother, noticing the little things he never really paid attention to before: the scar near his hairline, the small burn on his jaw, the other scar that cut his right eyebrow short — were they always there? How long have they been there?
‘Huh, I guess it is a little heartbreaking, wondering where all the years went.’
“Nothing, just…you know I love you, right?” Dick asks him, brushing off his own thoughts, chest suddenly tight at the mere thought that such a simple fact was unknown. “Right?”
Damian manages to shift enough in his arms to spare him a look over his shoulder, the elbow he manages to dig deep on Dick’s side not entirely accidental. Dick knows, because he knows his little brat. And still…
"Of course I know.” Damian replies with a roll of eyes but his words are soft as he tentatively but genuinely adds, “I love you as well, as you should know."
Dick swallows thickly and smiles, ignoring the way his lip quivers slightly before he bites it off. “I just — I don’t know, it’s like I’m seeing you for the first time, you know?”
The dry look Damian throws at him tells him, ‘no, he clearly didn’t know’. It makes Dick chuckle. That’s his brother, alright.
“No, no, I mean — hah, sorry.” Dick shakes his head, pushing down the flashing image of a world without his brother. He’s right here in his arms, it’s fine. He’s fine. “I guess I just never really realized the moment you started growing up.”
“Would you mind telling Father that?” Damian asks with a huff, turning back to face the fire and settle himself against Dick’s chest. “He still refuses to let me drive one of the cars from his ‘precious’ collection.”
Dick snorts, re-arranging his arms so they are crossed over his brother’s chest, pulling him closer, before he pats him on his right collarbone in comfort.
‘Just a few years back, I could swallow him whole.’ Dick thinks idly, slowly taking in the way Damian’s head now reaches his chin even when slumped against him. ‘He barely used to reach my stomach last week…’
Wait. Wait, what —
“Oh, buddy. You’re this family’s baby; good luck if he even lets you out of his sight to go to college.” Dick laughs, bumping his forehead on the back of his brother’s head and he stays there for a few heartbeats, allowing the sudden nausea that clogs his throat to disappear on its own. “You have literally a butler as a grandpa who drives you anywhere you want; what do you want to drive for?”
“Independence, Richard!” Damian huffs, elbowing him once more. Dick grunts and pokes him back on his side as reproach. Damian merely clicks his tongue. “It’s the principle of it! My own peers at class have already begun their lessons! I don’t even need lessons! And yet they are the ones already given keys to their own vehicle, parking them where they please and shouldn’t — which I wouldn’t since I’ve known Gotham's driver’s manual for years now and yet — yet I’m the only one who doesn’t have a car to show off my driving skills because Father — !”
Dick hums, letting his little brother rant for as long as his lungs allow him to. It’s almost soothing, to hear his brother complain over teenager stuff like this since he won’t ever get a chance to now that he’s —
Dick stops the thought short, almost as if in a panic. He tunes Damian out, just enough to listen to his voice as background noise as Dick focuses on his own body: the way his lungs are not filling up with air as they should and the way his shoulders are tense and rigid despite the warmth around the room and the soft pillow on his back.
He keeps his body still even as he looks around the room, gaze falling on the closed window on his right, where the November breeze stays outside, only tapping on the glass every few seconds.
His heartbeat grows loud inside his ear, enough for it to overpower his brother’s voice, and for a second, Dick wonders if Damian can feel it beating against his back.
For half a second, Dick wonders if he will be able to hear a heartbeat at all if he looks for Damian’s —
“What the hell are you doing?” Damian’s flat question pops his ears and Dick blinks, his gaze focusing back on the new sight of two of his fingers pressed over the inside of his brother’s wrist. Over his heartbeat.
“Oh.” Dick breathes out, frowning at his hand as he lets go and growing uneasy when he finds it shaking. He hides it by curling it into a fist. “Um, sorry. I don’t know what that was about.”
His little brother spares him a look, eyes narrowed in what could be a cold calculation but it’s really just concern.
“Have you been sleeping well, Richard?” He asks quietly. Dick purses his lips as he thinks it through, knowing his brother wouldn’t accept nor appreciate a half-assed lie.
“Pretty sure I have, yeah.” Dick sighs, using his shaky hand to run a hand through his hair in faux nonchalantly before he shakes his head and huffs. “I’m fine. I guess I’m just feeling a little nostalgic out of nowhere.”
Damian huffs. “I did tell Drake digging up those photo albums from his stalker era was gonna end up in tears.”
“Aw, you’re just embarrassed you didn’t know he had new albums where he managed to catch you napping with all of your pets at least twice for each.” Dick laughs, ignoring the way Damian splutters in both shock and offense.
“Blasphemy! I was not.”
“While wearing different deviant hoodies and sweatshirts of our family’s alter egos.” Dick adds with a coo, snickering under his breath when Damian shrieks and tries to free himself from his hold. “Aw, Dami, noo, don’t go! I’m just teasing.”
“I will not stay where I’m being bullied!” Damian barks, pushing Dick’s face away from his own when he tries to sneak in a few slobbering kisses. “Richard!”
Dick laughs wholeheartedly and his entire body feels lighter all of the sudden, shoulders finally relaxing as he takes a deep long breath through his nose.
He closes his eyes as he draws one last breath, burying his face on top of Damian's hair, and only blinks his eyes open once he exhales, the darkness that swallows his bedroom at the manor welcoming back once more. Still unmoving, ever present, reminding him of a simple fact:
Whatever he had seen. Lived. It’s once again gone.
Must have been a good dream, for a change, with the way it barely lasted a heartbeat. Unlike his nightmares, which seem to last lifetimes.
Smell mercies, he guesses, even though they both feel like curses.
Dick breathes slowly, acknowledging each breath as he slowly, almost begrudgingly, fills his lungs back up with air, holds it for a few seconds, and exhales through his mouth as he blatantly ignores the way the November breeze sneaks in from his open window, caressing his face with pity.
The tear marks on his cheek grow cold at the touch and that’s when Dick realizes:
The pillow he holds in his arms is just as cold.