Author notes: Dedicated to the very talented and wonderful JennMel, who not only thought up the title and summary for this fic, but has been extremely patient and longsuffering in her wait for this story (meant to be due at the end of January, and finally presented in mid March) and who pretty much provides truly amazing fic every single time I poke/prompt her with something I want to read. I humbly offer this short piece of brotherly fluff up to her for putting up with such a demanding beta.

Disclaimer: Clearly, I own nothing. If I owned Tus and Garsiv, I wouldn't be online right now. I'd be tying a bow on Tus and presenting him to JennMel.

Tus sat at his desk in his rooms, the thirteen year old diligently making notes for his lessons in the low lamplight. Thunder rumbled outside in a rare desert thunder storm, but he ignored the sounds as he wrote, being careful with his lettering. His hand stilled as he heard his door creak open and he turned, surprised to see a small, dark haired figure.

"Garsiv?" He frowned, "What are you doing out of bed?" He was confused by his little brother's hesitancy; at four years old he was already bold for his age and blunt to a fault. It wasn't like him to be shy of speaking or coming forward. "Garsiv?" he said again, more sharply.

A crash of thunder boomed and Tus barely had time to register the sound of a frightened yelp before he had a lap full of scrambling, panicked brother.

Tus stared down at Garsiv, eyebrows up in his hairline as he took in the small hands fisted in his tunic and the dark mop of hair that was all that was visible as the younger boy pressed his face into his shoulder.

Garsiv was very reluctant about most human contact; he tended to pull away from touches or suffer them stiffly, and loathed being picked up. They were slowly getting him out of his habit of biting those people he really didn't like when they picked him up, but he still would sink to that on occasion if he was in a foul mood. Tus was one of the rare people he would allow to hold him, an honour the serious thirteen year old did not take lightly, but Tus could still count on one hand the instances when Garsiv had ever sought after being held.

Thunder sounded again, and Garsiv flinched, his tiny shoulders shaking. Realisation smacked into Tus.

A slight smile quirked his lips; for all his boldness, his brother was still just a small child. "Did the storm wake you?" Tus asked softly.

"Yes" Garsiv mumbled into his clothes, and Tus placed a hand on his back, rubbing circles.

"Thunder cannot hurt you, Garsiv. It's just noise," he said gently.

It crashed again and Garsiv pressed closer to him, "I still don't like it!"

Tus shifted him slightly in his lap, trying to make them both more comfortable. "Would you like to stay here with me until the storm is over?" he offered.

Garsiv nodded against him and Tus smiled. He hooked the arm he had been rubbing Garsiv's back with securely around his small frame so he wouldn't fall, and then resumed his work with his free hand.

Whenever the thunder grew particularly loud and Garsiv trembled, he abandoned his writing to stroke his hair until he quietened again.

After an hour or so, the thunder quietened as the storm moved away, and Tus paused in his writing when he noticed that his brother had grown still and quiet in his lap.

He glanced down and saw that Garsiv had relaxed his white knuckled grip in his clothes, his fingers now curled loosely in the material. He was breathing softly, his face no longer buried in his shoulder, but his cheek resting against it and his features slack in sleep.

Tus felt an affectionate smile curving his lips; it was moments like these that really made him understand what his father meant when he talked about how wonderful it was to be a big brother. His heart swelled with warmth to be so trusted by the small being in his arms.

Tus picked up his reed pen and continued with his work, still quietly making notes half an hour later when he heard his door open.

"Tus, my son. The hour is late. Your books will wait until morning," his father's kindly voice said, and Tus twisted his head to smile tiredly at him as he entered the room.

"Sorry Father. I lost track of time," Tus apologised, and saw his father's gaze fall on the figure curled on his lap.

His father's gaze grew soft, even as it flicked up to him curiously.

Tus smirked, "It seems our brave little warrior is scared of thunder. He sought me out during the storm and took a death grip on my shirt for the duration of it."

Sharaman smiled warmly, "But he sleeps easily now, knowing his older brother watches over him" he paused, "But you must sleep too, Tus"

Sharaman reached down and gathered Garsiv up in his arms. The four year old's obsidian eyes opened and he let out a mewl of protest, struggling against the hold as he tried to cling to Tus.

"Tus?" he cried in half asleep alarm.

"It's alright, Garsiv. It's only Father" Tus assured him, patting his head gently.

Garsiv looked sleepily up at Sharaman and on recognising him, snuggled against his father's chest contentedly.

Sharaman chuckled, "I'm sorry if I'm not as comfortable as your brother, my little one"

Garsiv didn't respond, merely nuzzling further into his warmth, already mostly asleep again.

"Apparently you're comfortable enough, father" Tus laughed, then yawned.

Sharaman's warm hand rested on the top of his head, "Get to bed, son. I'll see Garsiv gets to his alright."

Tus nodded sleepily, getting stiffly to his feet. "Goodnight Father," he said and received a light kiss to his forehead, before he reached out to ruffle Garsiv's hair. "Goodnight, Garsiv"

"Night Tus." The mumbled reply surprised him, as he hadn't realised his brother was still awake. "Love you"

Tus felt a wave of something sweep over him that tightened his throat, and he pressed a kiss to the top of Garsiv's head, replying with a fierce "Love you too, little brother."