#my tumblr's been broken for 5 days now. on account of keeping the inbox open nonstop.

[cubbihue]

How did Timmy react to Peri’s name change?

Timmy was the first person to be told of Peri's name change! When Peri was sent to boarding school, he figured it'd be a good time to switch things up a bit. Maybe reinvent himself some!

Timmy accepted his new name change wholeheartedly!! It took a bit to get used to, but Peri's very happy that his brother supported him for it.

Peri didn't tell his parents until they met again after he became a Godparent. Timmy never told his parents that Peri changed his name, either.

Bitties Series: [Start] > [Previous] > [Next]

[danyka-fendyr]

Sleep is For the Week

Big thanks to Tumblr user @tantalum-cobalt for inspiring me on my main account @rmswiftie13 to write this! This is just a short fic I wrote about Damian and Tim doing some brotherly bonding.

Word count: 2378

Tim Drake was not too proud to admit he had some issues. Some less open-minded individuals might even call them problems. However, Tim was an intellectual, and therefore could recognize at 5:00 AM on a Tuesday, watching the sunrise on a digital screen showing a view of the woods outside the manor that he had set up when Steph had asked when the last time he saw the sun was, that not sleeping for 8 days straight and not eating for 3 was really more of an issue than a problem. Tim knew this because Tim had been solving a problem for those 8 days, 5 hours, 23 minutes and 52 seconds. If anyone knew what a problem was, it was Tim.

No, Tim Drake didn’t have any problems except the one he was currently working on. He couldn’t figure out how Bane was doing it, but somehow he was managing to get a new and apparently enhanced form of his special little strength elixir through Tim’s carefully constructed screening system. Technically it was the GCPD’s screening system, but Tim may have nudged them along by dropping a fully formed plan into Commissioner Gordon’s inbox using an anonymous email account. Not to say that Jim didn’t know exactly who was responsible for the new low in drug-trafficking currently occurring in Gotham city. Jim Gordon was good at knowing things quietly though.

Tim hadn’t figured out exactly how enhanced Bane’s new serum was, and he wouldn’t be able to until he got his hands on some of it, which was another thing bothering him. He had some idea though since Bane had used it to knock Bruce straight out of commission for the past 8 days, 5 hours, 26 minutes and 34 seconds. Let’s just say there were a lot of broken bones involved. A ridiculous amount really.

That was why Tim was currently sitting here, working on overdrive. Dick was dealing with something in Blüdhaven. The details eluded him at this particular stage of caffeine-driven sleep deprivation. Jason was off with the outlaws doing goodness knows what, but probably involving murder on some level. Steph and Cass checked in on him occasionally, but they were a bit preoccupied, Steph with helping Dick and Cass with helping Alfred watch over Bruce, who was being particularly difficult.

That left Damian. Tim wasn’t worried about Damian interrupting him though. When given the option, the demon-brat avoided Tim like a vampire avoided daylight. So Tim was left in peace, except for the nightly patrol where he and Damian tried to avoid speaking. They couldn't afford to get into too many arguments, spread as thin as they were, so it was better to just not talk at all.

A steady dripping sound filled the cave, a peaceful background to Tim’s research. His fingers clicked steadily across the keys, and his background ambiance audio was helping him stay focused. Or so he thought.

As it turned out, the classical music combined with the sounds of a storm, the dripping off some stalactite in the back of the cave, and the steady thrumming of his fingers on the keyboard may have been a little too calming. Tim’s fingers began to slow as his eyes began to droop. In a last-ditch effort, he reached for his coffee thermos, only to find it empty. He idly wondered how that had happened, closing his eyes in annoyance. He only meant to close them for a moment, but once they were closed it just felt so nice.

All he wanted to do was drift out of his tired, aching, throbbing body that had been screaming in protest at him all week. His eyes itched and burned even while closed, his stomach churned, his head hurt and his limbs ached. Before he fully knew what was happening, brain slowing down to match the speed of molasses, Tim Drake was asleep.

Damian was bored. No, bored was an understatement. The understatement of the century. If he didn’t find something to do, he was going to stab someone. Speaking of stabbing people, what was Drake up to?

Damian figured he was probably in the cave, and if Damian was lucky, his guard would be down. A prime target for stabbing. Perhaps torture, if the opportunity presented itself.

Damian made his way down to the cave, at first confused by the echoing sounds bouncing off the walls. He couldn’t understand why on earth someone was playing classical music in here without headphones. It was an unspoken rule of the Batcave that if you were going to listen to music you should probably do it with headphones since sound resonated all too well. The answer became clear to him though when he took a few steps further.

Drake was lying crumpled in a desk chair, his body in a pathetically grotesque position. Headphones hung halfway off his head, the cord jerked out of the computer by some movement in his sleep. One arm was folded between his waist and his legs, and it looked like he was probably losing blood flow to it. The other dangled lazily down to his toes, fingertips brushing the floor, while his head was buried awkwardly between his knees, neck twisted in some inhuman fashion.

“Drake, as much as I would like to see you in pain, I need you to have my back on patrol tonight. Wake up, or I assure you, you will not have to feel my wrath to understand the meaning of pain. Though I shall provide more, no doubt,” Damian added.

Tim didn’t stir. He didn’t even move a single muscle, other than to breathe. Damian wondered if maybe someone had put something in Tim’s coffee, but then he realized that someone would have had to be him since no one else had the time for that kind of devious micro-managing. That was certainly one way to get Drake to sleep.

“Drake!” Damian called his name louder this time.

Still no response. He frowned, crossing his arms over his chest. It would seem there was only one option left to him.

Damian crossed the room, pushing Tim up by his shoulders into something that resembled a sitting position. He was heavier than Damian expected him to be, still in his Red Robin suit that he hadn’t changed out of from patrol. Carefully, Damian hefted him halfway over his shoulder. He stumbled slightly, taken aback by the sheer muscle mass of the older boy. He knew on a subconscious level that Drake had to be strong to some extent, but he hadn’t thought about how much time Drake probably actually spent working on maintaining that strength, or the weight that would result from that behavior.

Damian dragged Tim along, refusing to bow under his weight. Tim still hadn’t stirred, fast asleep. Curse Drake and his dangerous sleeping habits. Didn’t he know he could get Damian killed?

Eventually, after much dragging but certainly no sweating, panting, or any other signs of large amounts of effort, the 13-year-old managed to get his older brother into bed. The only problem now was that it was not Tim’s bed, but  Damian’s.

Bruce’s room was the closest to the cave, naturally. He had to be there at any given time during the day, or the night for that matter, so it only made sense. However, Bruce was currently occupying his room, so it wasn’t like Damian could drop his load off there. The next closest room just so happened to be his.

He had demanded it under the pretense that, as the heir to the mantle of Batman, he ought to be just as close, if not more so, to the cave than his father was. It definitely had nothing to do with the nightmares that had plagued him since his death or the fact that the room had belonged to Grayson in previous years and perhaps was capable of bringing Damian such paltry feelings as peace and comfort. No, his reasons were purely practical.

So there Drake lay, diagonal on Damian’s Superman comforter, a gift from Jon. It was a stupid gift, but he never knew when Jon would be visiting, so he thought it best to keep it on at all times so as not to hurt the feelings of his overemotional...ally. Constant vigilance was important. Almost as important as making sure to stay on the good side of one of the most powerful families in the universe. It was an intelligent political move on Damian’s part, of course.

Damian’s hands came to rest on his hips as he stared at Drake, surveying his conundrum. The true heart of the problem was not that Drake was on his bed. No, the real dilemma here was that, after lugging Drake up a few flights of stairs and placing him on his bed, Damian was not tired, exactly. No. He just thought it might be prudent to rest and make sure he was up to his full strength for patrol tonight.

Of course, Damian could only see one way of getting any sleep right now. He refused to use a bed that wasn’t his own since that would be admitting defeat, something Damian never did. Instead, he would simply have to share the bed with Drake.

Moving him again wasn’t an option since Damian didn’t want to strain any muscles that could be vital in his role as the next Batman. He had a responsibility as the blood son. With that in mind, Damian moved to the far end of the bed, as far from Drake as he could get, and went to sleep.

When Tim woke up, his first thought was that he was not in the Batcave. Slowly, he assessed his surroundings. The first thing he registered was warmth. Radiating out from somewhere near his chest, there was something providing heat.

Tim looked down to see a shock of dark hair, messy with sleep. His first instinct was confusion, unsure who exactly was sleeping curled into his side. He shifted slightly to get a better look at their face, and nearly cried out when it was Damian.

The young boy’s long dark lashes brushed his high cheekbones, eyelids fluttering lightly from some dream and obscuring his sharp green eyes. He had his arms wrapped in on himself, knees pulled up to his chest, back pressed firmly against Tim’s own chest.

Tim was just going to quietly sneak out of the room, already sitting up halfway, when he heard something. A quiet groan slipped out of Damian’s mouth, so low Tim almost missed it. The noise got louder, whimpers now, gut-wrenching in their vulnerability.

Tim almost left it, knowing that the last person Damian would want to see waking up from a nightmare was him. When Damian cried out sharply though, Tim knew he couldn’t leave him like this. He didn’t have the heart to wait for someone else to help the demon brat. He may be annoying, but he was still Tim’s baby brother, and he looked tiny and fragile lying on his Superman blanket in the dim room, curled in on himself.  He was protecting his core, the very same place Tim knew a large scar lay, one that marked more than just an injury.

He reached out, shaking Damian’s shoulder.

“Hey,” Tim whispered harshly. “Hey, kid. Wake up. You’re having a nightmare.”

Slowly, Damian stirred, the strangled noises coming out of his mouth fading.

“Drake?” Damian asked, blinking and revealing his hazy green eyes. “How did you get in...never mind. Go away Drake, I’m sleeping.”

The tiny boy turned onto his side, away from his brother. Tim knew better than to think that he was just going back to sleep. He had seen the sheen of tears in his brother's eyes before he had rolled over, and he knew what he was hiding.

“You were having a nightmare,” Tim said.

“I’m fine now. You may leave,” Damian muttered.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Tim asked softly, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“I will be quite alright, Drake. I assure you I shall be more than competent on tonight’s patrol.”

Damian’s voice was terse, but he couldn’t hide what Tim knew. With his pale hand on the boy’s dark shoulder, he could feel the slight shudders running through Damian’s body. Without pausing to ask, or to consider the possible effects on his own health, Tim scooped Damian up and placed him in his lap. Carefully, he wrapped his arms around the little boy and held him close.

“You don’t have to talk about it. I know I’m not close to you like Dick, and I can’t relate like Jason. Just...don’t do this alone. You don’t want to be alone, Damian. Trust me.”

There was a moment of silence, the feeling of it thick in the room, like the tight feeling in the back of Tim’s throat.

“Very well. I shall allow you to stay on one condition. Go back to sleep Drake. I can’t have you collapsing in the middle of a fight. You’re already a disaster enough as it is when you’ve had enough sleep, you had best not get me killed in a situation that could have been completely avoidable,” Damian said.

“Yeah, okay kid,” Tim said, lying back down with Damian still held tightly in his grasp.

“And you will eat something as well. Not that you need it. You are incredibly heavy, do you know that Drake?” Damian grumbled, wiggling so that he was more comfortable.

“Sure. Whatever you say, Damian,” Tim said, grinning to himself.

“Now go to sleep Drake,” Damian commanded.

As it turned out though, he didn’t need to tell Drake to fall asleep. He had already done just that, his breathing settling into a steady, slow rhythm. Damian felt his own breathing slow too, and before he knew it he had joined his older sibling.

When Bruce would finally convince Alfred to let him out of bed for the first time in over a week, he would be surprised when he went to check on his youngest only to find him sleeping, curled up underneath the cape of his third son. He smiled, closing the door as he turned to head back to bed. Not, however, before he had time to snap a pic to send to his eldest in Blüdhaven. Dick was going to love this.