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“Hey,” Tim called, knocking his knuckles against the hard frame of Damian’s open room. He was surprised it was open. Especially after how angry the younger of two had gotten in their spat earlier.
“Stay out of my room Drake.” The younger of the two barely spared him a glance, eyes glued to whatever sketch he was working on.
Dismissive.
Usually that would frustrate Tim. But he didn’t have the energy for it. Today has been a low energy day— and he’d been sentenced to no patrol because some asshole nicked him a couple nights ago with a filthy, rusted knife. Barely anything consequential by itself but in combination with the apparent lack of sleep in the seventy-three and a half hours prior, the possibility of impending infection in the graze, it was the most annoying thing in the world. He was lucky he didn’t need another tetanus shot. Or at least that was the ‘Grayson Optimism’ talking. So if he wanted to work on any cases, it needed to be in the manor(if he could sneak it past Alfred), or in the cave.
Anyway, He overreacted earlier. Blew up for something as trivial as Damian incessantly talking at him. Was it the Insults the little demonic brat was spewing? No… maybe?I
Tim couldn’t be sure.
All he knew was the sound of someone talking— especially when he’d told him to go away, was like someone dragging nails on a chalkboard and his irritation dial was up at eleven. Out of three. He overreacted to something that seemed so small and stupid now. He totally owes Damian an apology. If Bart were there, he’d tell him that was a Mode move.
“Even if I’m here to apologise?” Tim asked, not daring to move from the hallway, leaning off the doorframe just enough that he technically wasn’t in Damian’s room. Mostly. An older brother’s pergoative. At least that’s what Dick and Jason claim. Who's he to argue when it works in his favor?
That made the youngest Robin pause, his eyes flickering between Tim and his project. “Finally seeing that I was right and your punishment of no patrol is—“
And the uncomfortable gearing is back. Tim winces, “Damian, please, stop.” He rubs his face. “Just stop.”
“Why drake? Are you finally admitting defeat and that I am better than you at—“
“I just don’t have enough spoons for your verbal insults today, okay?!”
“Cutlery belongs in the kitchen.”
“That’s not what—“ Tim groans, rubbing his face again. How can he even explain this to him? How does it make sense to Tim in the first place? Maybe— nope— now is absolutely not the time for this. “Not having enough spoons means mentally or physically not being able to handle things. It’s basically like not having enough energy or whatever to do something but not usually solely because of a physical issue. Get it?”
“Why are we discussing your metaphorical mental cutlery, Drake?”
And the sounds of grating chalk boards were back. His skin prickled and his irritation flared. Dammit. He just wanted to fucking apologize and his brain won’t stop being an asshole enough for him to do it.
“Because I’m trying to apologise for being an ass earlier but I apparently can’t deal with people talking to me now either.” Tim pinched the bridge of his nose, trying not to snap again. “It’s Likely the main cause of my irritability, being the lack of spoons and a deficiency in sleep the last couple days. Still, it doesn’t mean you deserved me snapping at you like that. Especially when it’s me just having a stupid bad day and not specifically something you’re doing.” He can’t stay here anymore, he can feel the annoyance building, the amount of natural light Damian has pouring into the room feeling entirely too bright. The way he could feel his teeth and was too aware of where his tongue is sitting in his mouth. He pushed himself off the doorframe, “anyway, I’m sorry. That’s all I wanted. I’ll leave you alone or whatever now.”
“Drake.” Damian called and Tim couldn’t help the spike of enhanced anger and frustration escaping him in the short sounds of a huff as he turned to face him. There was a hesitation in his younger brother’s movements before he set his pencils down, hands covered in smudged color as he looked at him expectantly and raised his hands, moving them fluidly.
Tim blinked, caught completely off guard. He completely missed the first part of whatever Damian was signing. “Woah, okay wait. Try again?”
Damian quirked a brow at Tim, but obliged. Tim’s brain was still having issues processing all the signs but he roughly translated it to, ‘go to bed before I make you.’ Which… Considering Damian almost immediately swapped to a nonverbal language as soon as Tim said listening to people was frustrating him, that’s sweet isn’t it? or well, as sweet as Damian gets. He’s seen him try to force Jason to eat by continually making him food, placing it near him and stalking away. Tim thinks Damian probably reserves this kind of care for Dick.
“You and what army?”
‘I’ll get Jason and Cass and you know both will sit on you.’
“They’re both out of town.”
‘They’ll come back Eventually.’ Damian insisted before signing Tim’s family sign and then the one signifying importance. Tim’s trying not to think too hard about the fact . ‘I will also tell Alfred. And dick.’
Tim groaned again, crossing his arms. “You think if i could sleep, I’d have done it already?”
‘How can we fix it? You are not enjoyable to taunt like this.’
Read: Tim can read between the lack of words. Damian’s worried. Damian wants to help. Damian… cares about him. Tim isn’t sure what to do with that. Sure, the little brats no longer trying to kill him but he’d still thought they were on tentative terms.
Tim hesitated before sighing. “I don’t know. Sit on my bed near silently while a movie you choose plays Quietly on my laptop?” He offers. “I think I just need the knowledge that someone’s close by without the need for someone to stay past the time I actually fall asleep?”
‘Acceptable. My art?’
“The paper and pen noise might bother me. We can test it?”
‘No.’
“If you’re sure.” Tim snorts with an eye roll. “Come on runt, let’s get this over with.”
Damian would never admit he scrambled up to follow, but Tim saw it. His chest flares with warmth. As much as their usual form of being siblings were insults, casual threats and blackmail, it was nice doing something else for a change. It’s Nice feeling like brothers. Even if it’s just because Damian claims that it’s all for the sake of proving he’s better than Tim, and he can only do so if his pathetic brotherly rival is at his best.
Once Tim and Damian are Completely settled on the bed, the movie, or rather a nature documentary Damian has seen at least a dozen times, was playing quietly, Tim exhales. He relaxes into his mattress, the documentary droning on like white noise, his brain not even registering the words from the screen.
“Thanks Dames.” It’s a mumble only answered by the reassuring squeeze of a much smaller hand holding his.
He’d only sleep for a little while. And he’s sure Damian might still be snippy with him later, but who knows? Maybe this is them turning over a new leaf. Or maybe out of the norm means an actual truce? he doesn’t know.
When someone comes to check on them hours later, they find the two of them passed out. Tim protectively curled around Damian and Damian half hidden in his brother’s side. Both snoring quietly, an actual deep sleep for once.