monica

damian had just finished a cold shower and was ruffling his hair dry with his bath towel. heading out of the bathroom about to cross the threshold to his main bedroom, his movements stilled and his pupils dilated ever so slightly.

his presence remained almost undetectable thanks to his training at the league and you failed to notice how still he'd become.

it took you a moment to realized that the sound of water running in the shower had already stopped for a while and you looked up from the laptop screen to see his ears and neck turn a slight shade of red.

"what happened, dames? you're turning so red you might be having a heat str—" you said, concerned, and already shifting out of his bed.

"no— you stay right there, habibti. uh..." he was speechless. brain short circuited.

there you were in bed, the color of your tank complimenting the radiant shade of your skin, spaghetti straps exposing the vast expanse of your collarbones.

they were carved like valleys that damian could get lost in when he wanted to hide and find tranquility, like it was a haven for him.

nestled in the soft arch of your shoulder that smoothened into the base of your neck was a faint spot of red that began to show shades of yellow and purples in its out edge.

wanting to figure out what caught damian's tongue, you traced his line of sight to the very area where he left a hickey the night before.

"oh this?" you looked at yourself "don't worry about it. it doesn't hurt, dames. c'mere"

you gestured for him to get in bed. he hung his towel on its rack inside the bathroom before exiting to officially to join you.

his knees dropped first, sinking into the soft cushions and sheets of the mattress and blankets, followed by the palms of his hands supporting his upper body weight as he moved towards you.

"i have no recollection of this mark, beloved" he looks up at you, chin resting on your chest as his emerald eyes searched for an answer in the brown dunes of yours.

"it's not too bad, don't you think?" you smiled, running your hand through his still-damp hair, massaging the sides of his temple because you knew that it was the only way he'd ease the cogs of his consciousness.

he closed his eyes in relaxation, shifting his face closer to you so that his nose would be tucked into the crook of your neck, his arms wrapping around your torso as he tucked his hands between your back and the sheets.

his lips rested on your sternum, refusing to leave unless he needed to move into a different position later on in the night.

"i must admit i do feel embarrassed" he mumbles into your chest.

"of what? the hickey?"

"yes, the...hickey"

"oh so mister damian wayne isn't so proper any more is he?" you teased, his hold around you tightening ever so slightly

"i find it hard to believe that i, myself, made that"

"and what of it?"

"it's...beautiful. it rests so nicely on your skin like a complementary color, like it belongs there"

"you don't want me to cover it up?"

"that is up to you, habit. i'd try my best not to flush too hard in public when you do"

you place a gentle kiss on his forehead, getting a whiff of the hair products he applied, filling your lungs with a sense of safety and home.

"d'you think it looks good, dames?"

"mm, looks perfect" his voice had gotten softer, drifting off into a state of sleep. "couldn't be prettier"

“oh my god i know you—“ you halted in your tracks while damian continued walking ahead with titus in his right hand.

before your intertwined hands could be pulled apart by distance, you tugged on damian’s. “dami, wait”

“what is it, beloved?” he turned around to see you with your eyes shining with excitement. then, his gaze fell upon the man holding his phone, clearly taking a video.

“my apologies, we’re not doing photos or interviews today—“

“‘please, dami? pretty please?” you squeezed his hand, convincing him to do the interview.

“fine, we’ll do it” he walked back to where you were standing and prompted titus to sit on the ground.

the man asked very politely, “would you mind telling us the story of how you first met?”

“YES oh my god i’ve been waiting for this moment my whole life” you were practically jumping in place from excitement. “dami, you start”

“we first met in univ—“

“yup so we first met at gotham u as freshmen and we were only classmates for like two classes” you turned to damian to continue.

“i happened to fall first—“

“we weren’t even in the same major. he was a business major with a minor in veterinary medicine and i was a hardcore marketing major”

“up to this point i still don’t know how she found me in a sea of other people” damian glanced at your side profile.

“oh come on,” you turned to the camera, “guys, if you were in our year you would’ve known how he was constantly being chased by girls”

“beloved, i was not—“

“yes you were so shut up please so i can continue. anyway, i did a whole shoot-your-shot kinda thing and sat adjacent to him in the library. by the long communal tables.”

“i do not even remember this happening…” he looked at you confused.

“yeah because you were so locked in for finals, dames”

he shrugs, “she left out the fact that she only ‘shot’ her ‘shot’ when it was senior year. the next time something actually happened was during our graduation”

you laughed, recalling the memories of that day. “i remember he left his entire family in the hall just to find me and invite me for dinner. i could still picture how stressed bruce probably looked at that time.”

“father had a whole search operation ready for me. he thought i was kidnapped and my siblings were already rolling up their sleeves” damian sighed, placing a hand on the small of your back.

you shot the camera a derpy smile and shrugged, “he brought me to a local burger restaurant. you know, the ones with greasy windows and neon lights for that so-called dinner of ours. it was delicious and the conversations were endless. the rest is history”

the man added, “so what’s your favorite thing about her?”

damian cleared his throat, “she is a very comforting person. she’s always there for me when i tend to shut myself within myself, when i come home from tiring nights from work. she’s also very respectful of all the things in my life. i am not very good with words, as she also knows, but she is someone i’d fight gotham criminals for, over and over again. my forever confidant.

you pretend to wipe a fake tear from your eye. “that’s the sweetest thing he’s said this month so far guys” you said jokingly.

before the interviewer could say his thanks, damian added a few more words after a moment of awkward silence that felt like forever.

“i don’t have many regrets in life, but she caught my eye pretty early on in college so i wish i talked to her sooner. so that we could’ve spent more time together.”

“oh don’t you fret. we still have the rest of our lives together” you placed a hand on his chest and kissed his cheek.

damian picked up your left hand and flashed it to the camera with a smug grin on his face, much to your surprise. “oh yeah! we’re engaged now!”

“very sorry to cut this interview short, but i need to get my fiancé her daily coffee before she flips some tables”

he nodded at the man and whistled for titus to stand up. the camera panned to the two of you walking away, blending into the crowd of gothamites going about their lives.

now, you are patiently waiting for damian to finish his walk around the front of the car to open your door. your chauffeur wishes you a good evening before the door to your right is swung open. you’ve already taken a few pictures with damian at the manor with your phone but nothing beats the real-life image of his gorgeous looks.

his hair was naturally swept back with hair wax and his bronzed skin was glowing from the body butter you recommended. his eyes were sharper than ever after getting his eyebrows threaded because yes, even he likes to keep his facial hair at bay.

and his eyes—his emerald eyes stared at you with so much admiration for choosing to live through another gala night with him.

your stylist put you in a two-piece outfit, with a drop-waist, semi-voluminous skirt that fell just by your ankles but nevertheless required some maneuvering to get around. even with heels that maxed out your capacity for height, damian still stood at least a head taller than you, from which your stomach felt a rush of excitement.

“beloved, do you want to hold your bag for the photos?” he asks because he wouldn’t want your outfit to be incomplete when the paparazzis take their shots.

he takes your hand as you step out of the car, being careful since it was pretty high up and you didn’t want to risk any damage to your shoes. “careful now,” damian says cautiously.

“i got it, thanks dami” you thank him with a pat on his chest. he closes the door of the car shut before extending his elbow for you to hold.

“they better get good photos, this look on you is my favorite.”

“you say that every time” you replied with a laugh as a gentle heat rose up to your cheeks.

“but it’s true, hayati” he says under his breath as he helps you pick up your skirt as there was a flight of stairs to conquer before you could enter the actual building.

the red carpet felt plush against your heels and you felt lighter as damian lifted most of the weight of your skirt. “dami, we should look back. i think we’d get a good photo.”

he does exactly as you say, looking back at the sudden bursts of flashes that went crazy after you two just fed them a museum-worthy photo for their next social media posts.

“perfect.” your smile almost caused him to trip over the stairs but he maintained his balance. the two of you reach the top and you were greeted by the event planners clad in black blazers and slacks, recognizing your faces and immediately ticked your names off on the clipboards. one of the ladies directed you and damian to your respective table before leaving quickly to guide the succeeding rush of guests.

“here, beloved” damian hands you a flute of champagne from god knows where because you didn’t even notice him pick it up from one of the server’s sterling silver trays.

“that was quick. are you trying to get drunk and leave early?” you laughed while setting your bag onto the table. damian pulls out your chair while taking a sip from his own glass, “perhaps, but i need to make sure the both of us make it home safely. that’s bruce’s number one rule.”

you take a sip from your glass, a lipgloss stain forming around the rim. before you could wipe it away with your thumb, damian hands you a tissue. you sigh with relief, “you’re the best, dami”

you lean in to peck him on the cheek before wiping the residue off your glass. “have you seen any of your friends here yet?”

“i heard that they will be late, as always. i don’t mind spending more time with you here” he states as he takes his seat beside you.

“oh no, it’s alright dami.” you take another sip.

“are you feeling hot?”

“a little bit, must’ve been all the lights from outside. paparazzi was crazier this time than the last gala at anton’s mansion.”

damian nods, scanning the area for any business partners that he needs to strike up some small talk with. at the same time, one of your friends, the wife of an ambassador, enters through the double doors.

“oh, ada’s here! i’ll just say hi to her, dami” damian nods again, “go ahead, i have a few people i need to talk to.” both of you left the table and separated into opposite directions, taking confident strides with a familiarity for the people you two were approaching.

throughout the entire program proper, damian would manage to keep your glasses full of champagne and water at the temperature you preferred. when he would be served a course first, he’d wait for your portion to be served before he could take a bite of his.

“hayati, have my plate. you said you were hungry.” damian nudges his serving towards you.

“no no no, i’ll be fine. i brought mixed nuts” you giggled before cheekily bringing out a packet of mixed nuts from the manor’s pantry out of your bag.

“don’t tell me this is for the afterparty.”

“okay, just cover your ears when i say it is.” you laughed and damian takes your hand in his out of the blue. he brings the back of your palm to his lips for a soft peck. your heart melts at how gentle he was and from his deathly gaze as he looked up at you while doing it.

you were getting bored at a random part in program where an old man was giving a speech based off of rehearsed words and a pre-written script. nothing that demanded your attention at all. so, you snapped a quick photo of damian looking off to the podium with his stone-cold attention span and posted it on your private instagram account.

“was the photo good?” his voice snaps you out of your focus on choosing the perfect song for the story. “here, i can redo if you want”

he assesses the photo, almost scrutinizing himself, but ultimately gave a huff of approval. “do you want one too?”

when the gala eventually ends, damian does his final check to make sure all of your belongings are within your possession. phone? check. favorite lip combo? check. his wallet? check. you? check.

“let’s get out of here” he takes your hand after finding you on the other end of ballroom before you spill something you aren’t supposed to say. “dami, do you still want to go to the afterparty?”

“only if you want to, hayati” damian says as he ropes his arm around your waist and picks up your skirt once more. “can you manage?”

“of course—“

“and your feet?”

“the usual pain with wearing heels but just walk a tiny biiit slower. ‘mkay?”

“rouhi, i’m serious. i need to know if i have to carry you down.”

“i’m serious too, dami. just don’t walk too fast. i want to use my legs”

“you are sure?”

you nod. damian spots his chauffeur at the roundabout by the fountain and calculates how long it would take for him to reach the foot of the staircase. you slowly make your way down each step with a hand grasping his bicep.

“mm, quite firm” you squished his arm a few times.

“i finished training earlier so that i wouldn’t be too tired before patrol later”

“what time are you leaving anyway?”

“it is usually up to bruce, but maybe around 1 am tonight. i can ask for his permission if i can survey the area where the afterparty is at—if you still want to go”

“nah,” you take a final step down and reach the base of the staircase. “finally. anyway, i’ll just stay home tonight. put me to sleep first, dami? please?”

“of course, my beloved” he places a soft kiss on your lips that lingered for a few seconds, before pulling the door of the car open just like he calculated.

bruce is out doing god knows what and alfred is tending to the gardens to collect some more flowers. for the moment, it’s just him and tim at home before the latter goes out for a dinner.

damian almost frowns at tim’s gluttony as he types away on his laptop at record speed.

“she asked me what my problem was.’” damian says out of the blue. tim nearly spits out his drink onto his laptop screen before gulping it down.

“WHAT did you just say?” his voice booms throughout the entire living room despite its sound insulation.

damian responds, simultaneously distracting himself from tim’s expression by counting the number of wood panels on the wall in front of him. “perhaps she caught me staring at her face the other day”

“what is the problem?” tim asks, closing his laptop.

“i don’t know.”

“well, maybe you’re in love.”

damian throws the leather cushion of his seat but tim punches it away before it can hit his face.

“think about it. think about EVERY time you’ve ever thought about that prospect, dami.”

damian’s eyebrows furrow as he sinks further into the couch, pulling the hem of his hoodie over his nose and crossing his arms. “now that you pointed that out—”

“you can’t stop thinking about it, can you?”

damian groans, tossing his head back while rolling his eyes. “tell me, drake. how long would it take to cure this?”

“just to cure it? oh, you’d be a fool. you can’t ignore it if it’s love,”

“do something. search the web for a cure—you’re good at that. are you not?”

the mere possibility that he had developed a crush snaps his focus away from the wooden panels, to face tim who has been seated on the left side of the living room. tim only shrugs as he takes another sip from his energy drink, “maybe if you realized it faster.”

“faster would have been to early. too quick even—”

“come on, the world would still follow you after.”

“the human condition is absolutely absurd. these thoughts have only infiltrated my mind because everybody is after love these days.”

damian takes a moment to recall the seasons he spent with you. the snowball you threw at his shoulder during the winter, running with him across central park to catch your favorite breakfast cart before they packed up for the day in the spring, sunbathing together on the manor’s lawn while contemplating what to do for the rest of the summer.

the sun’s golden rays caused the surface of central park’s lake to shimmer in its light, still and undisturbed, as the two of you stopped by a local ice cream shop. you held a spoon out for him to get a taste of your scoop and he surrendered to trying your strawberry ice cream.

damian snaps out of his memories and back into the reality of tim staring back at him.

“i mean, you could force yourself to end it.”

“never—well, i did not mean for it to manifest.”

“there’s no escaping now, dami.”

“yes, i understand drake.”

“we’re never alone though.”

“say that again?”

“move closer,” tim pats the empty space in front of him on one of the larger couches. damian reluctantly gets up from his chair and plops himself in front of tim, bouncing a little bit from the springs inside.

“what, you’re going to whisper it to me?”

“just let it settle down inside.”

“let what settle down?”

“your love—your crush, whatever it is to you. don’t be in a hurry to get rid of it. don’t overcomplicate it. you’ll just give yourself a harder time.”

“i suppose letting it simply ‘happen’ would make me feel lighter.”

“exactly. it’s not a burden to be carried, dami. come on, out of all people, you’re the one who’s only in love like, once upon a time.”

damian scoffs at his comment, “it is an accident, drake.”

tim nods, “uh huh, an accident that happened accidentally.”

“accidentally—“ damian stops midway through his sentence after straightening his posture in defense to tim’s reply.

perhaps throughout the time you spent together with damian, you’ve revolved with the world a little closer to each other and your days with spent him have gotten a little bit brighter.

“come on, dude. she probably reciprocates anyway. just let yourself inside her life as she’s done with you.”

damian pinches the bridge of his nose, cheeks heating up from the blood rushing to his head, and his eyes squeezing shut at the realization that had befallen him, “i guess i am in love.”

“oh, i am so texting that in the family group chat”

“NO you will not.”

it’s That kind of month where he’s beating you in almost EVERYTHING. it makes you doubt your abilities—if you’re even actually smart. when you do score higher, it’s only by a handful of points.

a handful of points is always never enough for this competition. its like the olympics after all.

it genuinely frustrates you when you score one point lower than him in your recent midterm—but you bottle it within yourself in fear of your friends getting fed up with your complaints about it.

with a prolonged build-up, the dam is bound to burst. it takes one minor assessment and he still manages to score higher than you. your eyes blur with overwhelming emotions, chest feeling seemingly empty despite the weight of the outcome.

you clench the paper, thinking about how dramatic you were being for crumpling it because of your emotions. you rip the paper into tiny pieces, stack each half over another as they shrank in size with every tear.

you excuse yourself in order to go to the restroom while the entire class goes over the items in the test. damian allows his gaze to drift away from his perfect mark to your figure leaving through the exit door.

to a normal person, you seem unbothered, fine even. but to damian, you’re absolutely seething with every rushed and heavy step. he does nothing to show concern in his expression as your silhouette disappears.

taking advantage of the two-person limit for the bathroom break, he excuses himself as well. coolly, he tucks his paper into the pocket of his slacks and goes to the bathroom.

there, he throws his creased paper into the bin and sees you facing yourself in the mirror with your hands on the surface of an endless stretch of sinks and faucets.

“go away,” you say, but he doesn’t budge. you shake your head continuously, looking up to the ceiling in an effort to drain your tears back into your eye sockets. “you’re making it worse.”

damian only approaches you, forcing you to turn to your side and look up at him. “fuck you, i hate you.”

damian just stares at your face. his eyes assess every muscle movement. how your eyebrows furrow, your lip twitches and bites, your eyes turning red, and your forehead creasing. he knows better than to say a word.

you hit him on the shoulder. another hit on his left. a hit on the center. you’re not strong enough to send him launching backwards but he lets you take it out on him regardless.

both of you know that there is nothing you can do to change the results. its simply a fact that has to be accepted.

your eyes grow even more red, blood rising to your head as tears fall down your cheeks. you’re still careful enough to not let them stream down to dampen your uniform, yet not careful enough to avoid swelling up your eyes.

it takes a bit of time before damian halts your fists from making more contact by grasping your wrists.

“forgive me, beloved. there is nothing more that i can do.” he guides your arms back to your sides and hugs you by your shoulders.

it’s awkward, but that’s what makes you feel slightly better anyway. “i hate you,” you say with trembling lips. “i know you do,” he responds while softly closing his eyes, dropping his head on your shoulder.

“i cannot prevent myself from achieving the best possible score, beloved.” he says while cupping the back of your head as you stabilize your breathing once more.

“i know. perhaps i’m just distracted lately,” you sigh with your chin on his shoulder.

“i know you are capable of sustaining yourself, but i am letting you know that i am here to accompany you throughout your preparations.”

“i know, dami. and i thank you for that.”

“let us talk more in the manor, if you care to drop by later on.”

“of course i will, i always care.”

“i am sure you do, beloved.”

the bell rings, signaling the end of your last class of the day.

walking home from a night out, he’d repeatedly call your nickname out in full concern after you get tipsy or drunk at your local pub. “ma…be careful” and “ma, please walk properly”, while trying to let you work your way back home independently. a random dude outside of a club you pass by hears his repeated calls and mocks him out loud, “mama, mama, mama are you okay?”. jason glares absolute daggers at him and flip him off, but he knows better not to pick a fight just yet. he wasn’t equipped with his weapons anyway.

he’d grumble about you making him your test subject to some nasal dilators you bought online meant to ease breathing and prevent snoring when sleeping at night. safe to say that he now occasionally reaches out for them when he knows he can tune in for a snoozefest and wake up at an ungodly hour the next day; as long as you’re still there too.

you probably wouldn’t need to do any “hear me outs” on your social media for him to take the hints you give. he wouldn’t have social media in the first place so dick makes it his mission to set up a few accounts for him. he notices EVERYTHING so easily—the changes in your syntax, the fact that you’ve brought up something you were thinking of at LEAST twice in a day, your way of finding substitutions to deal with cravings, he notices it all.

even though jason prefers to cook for the both of you, he doesn’t go out of his way to keep you out of the kitchen. sure you’d probably set the uncooked pasta on fire or stir fry some ingredients right out of the pan but at least he’s there to supervise

he’ll hear you listening to your yearner playlist, probably overanalyze the lyrics of each song, and get worried about you. he would have a bit of difficulty bringing up the topic but when he does, its the cutest thing ever because he’s out here with eyebrows furrowed while you laugh and reassure him its nothing bad.

while i think dick would be more into compression shirts, jason finds one of dick’s mixed up with his own fresh set of laundry, puts it on, and just rolls with it. you buy him a few more shirts after that.

on the topic of shirts, if you tend to get really big sizes for graphic tees to wear at home (im talking like an xl or xxl when you’re supposedly a small or medium), jason would borrow those occasionally too

he is SO the type to sleep without a blanket while its a requirement for you. he grew up lacking that kind of proper warmth when falling asleep, opting for hoodies instead and got used to sleeping that way. sometimes he’d yank the blanket away because it gets in the way of his cuddling of you at night