It was a gray Gotham afternoon, the kind where the sky seemed to press down heavy on the city’s shoulders. The clouds had been creeping in since morning, and by the time the grandfather clock in Wayne Manor struck four, thunder cracked like the sky was tearing apart.

Lightning flashed beyond the windows, casting tall shadows against the manor walls. The rain came hard and fast, pounding against the glass like tiny fists. Most people in Gotham would call it just another Tuesday—but for six-year-old Damian Wayne, it was something else entirely.

He stood in the hallway outside the library, a soft blanket clutched tightly in one small hand, his other hand balled into a fist by his side. His dark hair was a little messy from his nap, and his green eyes—normally so curious and sharp—were wide and glossy now. Every loud rumble of thunder made him flinch, his whole body shrinking inward.

“Daddy?” he called, his voice small.

No answer. Just the distant boom of another crack of thunder and the low murmur of voices downstairs. Damian hesitated. He knew he was supposed to be brave. He always tried to be—just like Father. But the storm outside felt like it was trying to break through the windows, like it wanted in. His throat tightened.

Then—

“Hey, Dames,” came a gentle voice from behind. Damian turned to see Dick standing at the top of the stairs, holding a mug of cocoa in one hand and a book in the other. His expression softened the moment he saw the look on Damian’s face. “You okay, buddy?”

Damian blinked quickly and nodded, but his voice betrayed him. “I… I don’t like the thunder.”

Without hesitation, Dick crouched and opened his arms. Damian hesitated only a second before running into them, burying his face into Dick’s shoulder. Dick didn’t say anything, just held him tightly, his warmth steady and safe against the storm’s fury.

From down the hall, Jason leaned against the wall, watching quietly with a soft smirk. “Told you he’d come looking for one of us,” he muttered.

Tim peeked around the corner, a pillow under his arm. “Should we set up a movie night in the living room? He always calms down when we watch something dumb together.”

Dick looked down at the little boy clinging to him. “How about it, Damian? You want to watch something with your brothers?”

Damian sniffled and nodded against his shirt. “Can we all stay together until it stops?”

Bruce had just entered the hallway, silent as usual, but with a fondness in his eyes few ever got to see. He walked over, placing a warm hand on Damian’s head.

“We’re not going anywhere,” he said softly.