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He continued to run a hand through his hair absentmindedly, tousling it even more while he thought back to how real the nightmare felt. It was strange how he could still remember the events as clearly as if it had happened the day before. Dreams would usually leave his memory moments after waking up, making them difficult to recall in great detail. But this time, he found he could still remember everything that had led up to the explosion. 

He remembered feeling the intense heat all throughout his body. It had burned like molten. He recalled the air pressing against him, the room spinning around him, and the loud roar that had deafened him. The flash of light blinding his eyes had been so bright, Damian thought he temporarily had x-ray vision and could see through his own bones. He thought he might’ve also felt bricks being thrown at him—most likely the result of flying debris. 

Trying to shake away the nightmare that left him gasping for air, Damian grabbed his phone from off the bedside table. His brows furrowed when he noticed the date on the lock screen. December 31st. He could’ve sworn December 31st was yesterday’s date. 

A wave of uneasiness washed over him. It was unlike him to forget anything, much less losing track of the date. The nightmare of Marinette dying had made him more disoriented than he thought. 

Shaking his head, Damian took note of the time—8:00 am—and ignored the pounding on his door, which he admittedly flinched at. It was likely one of his annoying siblings anyway, probably Todd’s based on the aggressiveness. He resumed his blank stare at the wall, unsuccessful in his attempt to forget the nightmare. Titus, the black Great Dane who had been lying at the foot of his bed padded towards him, burying his sleek head into Damian’s arms. Though Titus did help ground him somewhat, Damian’s thoughts still drifted back to his nightmare. 

His bedroom door bursted open, startling him from his thoughts. The sound of the door hitting the wall was reminiscent of the loud bang from his nightmare seconds before he had felt the ghost pain of being burnt alive. He glared at his second eldest brother, Todd, who shot him a cocky grin in response. 

Damian exhaled a breath, composing himself in an effort to make it appear like he had not been startled. 

It didn’t seem to have worked, judging by the way Todd had taken one look at Damian’s shaken expression and frowned. “The fuck’s gotten into you? You look like you’ve seen a ghost. Nightmare?” 

Damian didn’t cease his glare. The last thing he wanted to do was to dump his traumatic vivid nightmare of Marinette and himself dying from Joker’s bomb explosion onto Todd. For one, it would trigger Todd, who had also once died in a bomb explosion caused by Joker. And two, Todd would ask why Damian was dreaming of Marinette in the first place, which is another can of worms he didn’t have the energy or desire to open at the moment. “None of your business.” 

“Whatever, brat. Dickie Bird sent me to get you for breakfast,” Todd huffed out, fingers moving up to mess at the white-streaked fringe covering his forehead. “You’ve woken up awfully late today—whatever happened to waking up at the crack of dawn?” 

Damian grunted in acknowledgement, choosing to graciously ignore the nosy prodding at his morning habits. “I will be down in a minute. Now get out of my room, or I will not hesitate to stab you.” 

With a roll of his eyes, Todd did what was demanded of him and left without another word. Though he hadn’t bothered to shut the door. 

A few minutes later after sorting out his emotions and locking them up in the compartmentalization section of his brain, Damian headed down for breakfast. 

He walked into the dining room just in time to hear Grayson initialize a bet with their other family members on who would get caught up in the tabloid this time and for what, as this seemed to be a weekly thing with the reporters. “Place your bets, everyone! Who is it this time? I’ll bet my Lucky Charms that it’s about B and his secret lover Batman.”

Todd snorted. “Who wants your Lucky Charms? But I’ll take it and throw it in the trash just to spite you. And no bet, that’s old news. I bet $500 on Red Robin being on the front page for getting kicked out of a coffee shop for tryna order lethal shots of caffeine. Again.” 

“Come on, Jay, even you don’t believe that. Did you forget we’re the sons of a multi-billionaire? You’ll have bet your guns if you truly believed I was going to be on the front page today.” Drake was gulping down his daily dose of caffeine like his life depended on it. It might very well be at this point, if his bloodshot eyes were anything to go by. He looked like he would crash any second without caffeine in his bloodstream. Clearly, sleep was not a concept Drake understood, nor was it in his vocabulary. Occasionally, he would reach for one of the dinosaur-shaped nuggets from the plate in front of him. 

Grayson was pouring colourful fruit loops into a mug as he spoke to Todd. “Timmy has a point, you know.”

Damian felt his eye twitch at seeing what was supposed to be something he was used to seeing as “normal” by now. Cereal in a mug, what an abomination. Did bowls just not exist? 

“Cereal in a mug just hits different, Little D,” Grayson would say every time he caught Damian’s silent judgemental stare on his mug of cereal. 

“You have no leg to stand on, Dickie Bird, we all know rainbow fruit loops are your favourite. Why don’t you bet on those, hm?” Todd snarked back, lunging to grab the innocent fruit loops box sitting in front of Grayson’s cereal mug. 

Grayson was faster, and shot his hands out to grab the cereal box, pulling it out of Todd’s range and covering it with his arms in a protective hold. “I would, but this is my last box until I can get more! I’m savouring it.” 

The two were now wrestling over the cereal box, stray colourful round pieces spilling out of the box and landing on the floor every few seconds from all the movement. They were then crushed by Todd’s foot as he deliberately stomped on them. 

“Little Wing, you cereal killer!” Grayson cried out, before proceeding to laugh at his own pun, which mind you, wasn’t even funny. 

Todd scowled, putting more effort into his pursuit for the bright red box. His elbow knocked into Brown, who was using a fork and knife to slice her waffle like she would a steak. “Boys, not in front of my waffles!” 

Gordon, who was eating a slice of Hawaiian pizza—without the pineapples—next to Brown, shook her head. “It’s your average day in the Wayne household, Steph, you know better than this.” 

The unwanted pineapples had been plucked from the pizza and moved to a ramekin, where either Alfred or Marinette would use them in their respective dishes or baked goods so as not to waste. 

“It’s for the sweetness,” Gordon would insist whenever Todd poked fun at the fact that she might as well have just ordered a ham pizza if she was going to pick out the pineapples anyway. 

Todd paused in his attempts to wrestle the cereal box away from his older brother when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned to see Cass—who had been enjoying her bowl of various fresh fruits—pointed to something at the ground. Following her gaze, Todd was horrified to see that his own bowl of ice cream had somehow fallen to the floor during the brawl. “Way to go, Dickie Bird, now you owe me a new tub of ice cream!” 

Grayson squawked in offense, but he did look a little remorseful by the turn of events. “How did a bowl of ice cream turn into a new tub of ice cream?”

“Tax,” was all Todd grumbled out as he cleaned up the puddle of melted ice cream on the floor before he went to microwave another bowl of Neapolitan ice cream. 

Damian wasn’t even going to start on Todd’s latest atrocious habit of microwaving ice cream. He ignored the inane antics of the people he called family and got started on his yogurt bowl. A few scoops of greek yogurt, a handful of blueberries and blackberries, a few strawberries that were sliced in half, half a cup of granola, and a sprinkle of chia seeds that Alfred had let soaked earlier before leaving for his errands. 

Just as he was getting settled down at the dining table to eat his freshly prepared breakfast, Father walked in and presented them the daily newspaper. It was Red Hood all tied up on the front cover. The headline read ‘The City’s Hottest Reformed Crime Lord Has a Bondage Kink?’ 

Grayson choked on his cereal while Drake and Brown howled with laughter. Gordon looked exasperated but amused at the same time. Even Cass’ lips twitched with laughter as she peered at the newspaper. Father had the decency to cough in an attempt to hide his amusement. Damian, who was smirking and—without shame—took out his phone to snap a photo of the newspaper cover in full view of Todd who flushed. 

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up!” He grumbled. “That new hero fuckin’ tied me up! I thought I got out of the ropes without any of you lot noticing. Knew y’all would have a field day with this. Then some fucker managed to get a picture and sold it to the tabloids, dammit.” 

The photo was going to the blackmail folder. Damian’s other adopted siblings were going to fight tooth and nail to have this latest edition of the newspaper framed in their room as the ultimate blackmail, but he only needed a photo on his phone. He didn’t need blackmails of his siblings on the walls of his bedroom. His siblings didn’t deserve the honor, and it would ruin the aesthetic of his walls adorned with canvas paintings.

The smirk melted off his face as he felt the sense of major deja vu settle within him. But it was… more than that. He felt that this exact moment had happened before. In fact, it happened just yesterday morning, hadn’t it? Even the entire lead up had happened almost exactly as it did the day before. But that wasn’t right either. It was from his dream. 

He forced his racing heartbeat to calm down. It was just deja vu. He’s had it happened before with previous dreams that seemed to have come to fruition during certain circumstances. Damian nodded to himself. Yes, that’s it. Deja vu. That familiar feeling of having experienced something. That nightmare felt very far away now anyway. He wouldn’t have been able to recall the details anymore even if he wanted to.

“I do not have a bondage kink—jesus fucking christ, perish the thought!” Todd yelped, jolting Damian out of his thoughts. 

Brown and Drake exchanged devious looks. 

“Have you ever tried it in the bedroom though?” Brown bursted into laughter at the panicked expression on Todd’s face. 

“H-how did you feel while you were tied up…?” Drake piped up, trailing off at the end as he clutched at his stomach, heaving with uncontrollable laughter. He could barely get the words out. “...A-any excitement from down… there?” 

“Stop, I can’t!” 

The duo’s laughter triggered everyone else into laughing as well. Even Damian was having a hard time keeping a stoic face. He turned and faced the wall, of course. He had a reputation to maintain. 

Todd’s ears were bright red as he sent everyone his nastiest glare, putting more effort behind the one he sent Brown for being the one to make the bedroom remark. “Fucking hell—you did not just ask me about my habits in the bedroom! And you Timbo! I thought you were innocent.” 

“So have you?” Father asked with a straight face, his tone serious. 

The color drained from Todd’s face as he looked like his biggest fears had come true. “Have I what?” 

“Tried bondage in the bedroom.”

Todd’s jaw dropped. He looked horrified, and his ears were steaming at this point. “No. No, no, no, no, no. Just no.” He slammed his palms against his ears as if that would erase the words that had just been imparted upon his mind. “My ears! I am not doing this right now. Or ever. The birds and the bees can keep their purity, I don’t fucking need to hear this. Fuck the paparazzi! And the press—fuck the press. Fucking newspaper!”

“I think you guys broke him,” Grayson whispered, looking mildly concerned by Todd’s breakdown. 

This was the scene Marinette came upon when she arrived. She took one look at the newspaper still on the table and the people crowded around the dining table, and bit her lip like she was trying not to smile. 

Heading to the oven, she took out a tray of Gotham’s vigilante themed macarons, which she apparently seemed to have baked earlier. “Macaron, anyone?”

Damian relaxed his shoulders—he hadn’t even realized they had been tense all morning, the nightmare had clung to him even as he tried to push it out of his mind—because, finally, something was different. He was sure that the feeling of deja vu was only supposed to last a fleeting moment, but until Marinette’s arrival, that feeling had only gotten stronger as his family continued to bicker with one another. It had been getting uncanny. But at least now he knew that the events mirroring yesterday was a fluke. A coincidence. 

He watched his family members all rush to grab a macaron, enthusiastically thanking the raven hair girl. It hadn’t escaped his notice that they had all taken the macaron that was themed after their vigilante self. Were they even trying to be discreet at this point? Damian would be surprised if Marinette didn’t know about their vigilante identities by now. 

“Want one, Damian?” Marinette held out the plate that was left with a single macaron, her bright blue eyes twinkling with kindness. Robin. Great. 

Damian sent a glare towards the people he was forced to call family for leaving him with the Robin themed macaron. He might as well announce his identity to all of Gotham city. “No need. I’ll pass on the sweets today.”

The twinkles in her eyes were snuffed out as she looked crestfallen. 

Feeling strangely guilty, he resisted the urge to shift his feet—Damian Wayne does not fidget. He didn’t like feeling he was responsible for the sad expression on her face. 

A flash of Marinette’s body lying on the ground, dead, made an appearance in his mind, and his heart seized as he thought back to the nightmare of the bomb going off not even a millisecond after his hand had brushed hers. 

What if his dream had been a warning? A vision for what was to come? Under the table and hidden from view of everyone, his hands shook. He wasn’t going to leave anything up to chance. Monitoring Marinette today didn’t seem like a bad idea. For her own safety, of course. Not that he cared. 

Damian wasn’t sure what myriad of expressions he had been making, but it had earned him puzzled stares from his family and a wide-eyed look from the raven-haired girl who was still standing in front of him with the plate held out. She was starting to retreat her hand that was holding the plate when he took the macaron. Seeing her brighten up again filled him with warmth. 

Lifting the macaron up to his mouth, he took a bite into the shell, enjoying the sweet nutty flavor. The strawberry filling exploded onto his taste buds, taking him by surprise. He had always liked sweets anyway, but never had the luxury when he had lived with his mother in the League. Even after having moved in with Father, he never indulged in sweets out of his own accord. 

His eyes drifted back to Marinette, watching as she grabbed one of the leftover croissants from the baking tray that had been left overnight in the unheated oven. She then took her seat at the table from across Damian. 

Ignoring his family as they moved on from poking fun at Todd’s bedroom habits to mundane topics now that Marineette arrived, he instead kept his gaze on the other girl as she listened in on the conversations taking place around her. She must have felt his intense stare, as she looked up to meet his gaze. But he still couldn’t find it in himself to look away, as if fearing that she might disappear if he took his eyes off her for even more than a second. 

“So Mari, what’s your plan for today?” Grayson tipped the cereal box towards his mug, going for a second cup of cereal as he finished his first one. 

Everyone, including Damian, turned towards Marinette, interested in hearing the answer. 

Marinette, to her credit, took the sudden attention in a stride. She chewed on her croissant, smiling at Grayson. “I’ll probably just sketch in the garden. Oh, and I’ll head out for lunch today as I want to spend some time at Fabric Fusion. Don’t tell me you’re planning on a family trip and want me to come along too? I think I’ll pass if it’s the Sahara Desert.”

He thought over his own plan for the day. There wasn’t anything dire he needed to do, and he had planned to paint in his art room after breakfast. If he was to monitor Marinette to make sure she wasn’t going to bring his nightmare to life by getting kidnapped by Joker, Damian decided he would just bring his art supplies to the garden. He would sketch today and save the painting for another day. 

Grayson let out a gasp as he levelled accusing looks at his other siblings. “Who told her about the Sahara Desert trip?”

“I did, of fucking course. Who else would have the audacity? Everyone else would use it as blackmail material. But also because Pixie Pop is family. Obviously my little sister deserves all the greatest gossip!” Todd was using a spoon to scoop his ice cream soup, which was now a light brownish color, and he made sure to make the most absurd noises while he slurped. 

“I will join you in the garden,” Damian had cut in before the topic could digress any further. He ignored the weird looks being sent his way, having only eyes for the startled girl sitting across from him. 

She was looking at him with wide eyes, and he stilled, suddenly self-conscious. After all, he never initiated hangouts—if at all—and had actually avoided Marinette when she first moved in. Having taken the hint that he wasn’t looking to make friends, she never bothered to extend hangout invitations to him. The two never hung out alone before, and the only time Damian would interact with the other girl would be during meal times when she offered baked goods to him. 

Understandably, she was shocked, and so was everyone else at the table. 

“O-okay,” she stuttered out, having gone pale for some reason. The way Marinette was looking at him, you’ll think she had never seen him before. Which was a ridiculous thought, because she also lived at Wayne Manor, and therefore, they inevitably see each other everyday. 

Todd dropped his spoon. It made a loud clink sound when it landed in the bowl, causing the ice cream soup to splash. The light brown liquid with a thick consistency splattered on the surface of the table near the bowl. “I’m sorry, I think my ears malfunctioned. I seem to have heard the brat willingly invite someone—someone who is human and not one of his pets—to hangout.”

The way he didn’t believe that Damian was capable of hanging out with someone made him want to stab the cretin that was his second oldest brother. As there was no stabbing at the dinner—or anywhere in the house, Alfred’s rule—Damian settled on glaring at Todd instead. “I am capable of that, yes. I hangout with Kent plenty.”

Drake snorted. “Yeah, when he drags you over to his house kicking and screaming. And I’m pretty sure you and Marinette have never hung out alone before today. So, what gives?”

“Come on now, guys, I think it’s great that Little D is making friends. Friends with Sunshine would definitely do him some good. He’ll lighten up in no time.” Grayson beamed at Marinette, who ducked her head with her cheeks flushed. 

Damian’s lips twisted into a scowl at the remark. He did not need to “lighten up” whatsoever. People like Grayson, Marinette, and Jon made Damian wonder how they were not exhausted with smiling all the time as if they were the sun. It wasn’t like there was much for Damian to smile anyway, but he was capable of it. Like when he completed a particular difficult piece or a painting he was proud of, or when he was playing with his pets. During those times, a content smile could be found resting on his face. It might not be as bright as Marinette’s smile, but he did feel warm—and dare say happy—during those moments that sparked joy for him. 

Father was smiling approvingly at Damian, looking proud and relieved that his son was extending his very small social circle, which consisted of only Jon. “It’s good to see you making more friends, Damian. You’ve had me worried for a while.” 

“Tt. You need not worry, Father, I do have friends.” Damian felt his cheeks warm, but he didn’t have to worry about his blush showing as his darker skin tone was masking it. His shoulders tensed as he tried not to give any hints to his flustered state. 

“Yeah, one,” Brown muttered, stabbing at her waffles. 

Father’s input acted as a dismissal to the topic, and the others dissolved into their own conversations again, having moved on from the topic of Damian’s social life. 

Marinette smiled kindly at him, while putting the last bits of her croissant in her mouth. She chewed and swallowed before leaning forward, lowering her volume so only he could hear. “Relax, I can see you’re tense. It’s okay to have only one close friend you trust. In fact, I think it’s better than having a lot of friends you’re not as close with.” 

Her smile turned bittersweet at the last part, and Damian’s curiosity about her life prior to moving to Gotham rose. Appreciating her attempt to make him more comfortable, he gave her a nod in response before focusing his attention on finishing up his breakfast as well. 

Standing up from her chair, she grabbed the plate with her and looked to Damian. “Take your time. I’ll just be in the garden after I go grab my sketchbook.” 

She then deposited her dish in the sink before making her way out of the dining room, presumably upstairs to her room for the sketchbook. 

Having Marinette out of sight made the air in his lungs feel tight, and suddenly he found it difficult to breathe. He tugged at the collar of his shirt, trying to free some breathing room. It did nothing to quell the choked feeling in his lungs. Ignoring the sudden coldness that overcame him, he focused on finishing his yogurt bowl, taking conscious thought in making his movement look natural instead of like he was rushing to finish his breakfast. Damian was dignified and would not be caught rushing. 

He must not have been successful as Todd just had to remark, “Got somewhere to be, Brat?” 

The rest of his family looked up, just as interested in hearing Damian’s answer. They would be disappointed as he wouldn’t even bother to dignify Todd with a response. 

Damian stood up, placing the small ceramic bowl and spoon in the sink before following in Marinette’s footsteps up the stairs for his art supplies. When he arrived in the garden, she had already settled down on the stoney edge of the fountain, a sketchbook and pencil in hand. 

Sun rays were casted into the still water, giving the surface a shimmering appearance. The stone fountain was surrounded by soft pink roses and hedges. His eyes caught on the way the sunlight shone on Marinette’s smooth midnight locks, making it glow. 

She looked up to meet his gaze, brightening at the sight of him and waved him over with a pencil in hand. Damian blinked, not looking away even as his heart skipped a beat and he fought off the strange instinct to squirm. Seeing her in the flesh loosened the previous tight feeling in his chest, and he felt lighter. 

“You’re here,” she said, looking a little in disbelief as she sent him a disarming smile. 

He raised a brow in response. “Have you been sitting out here expecting me not to show up?” 

As if that had even been an option in the first place. Having her out of sight for even a few seconds had knocked the air out of his lungs. He needed to keep her in sight, at least for today. His nightmare from the night before could not come to pass. It was unacceptable, and he would not allow it. 

“Well, not exactly,” Marinette said with a flush on her face that he surprisingly found endearing. “You’ve just never given any indication that you wanted to be friends before, and I’ve been giving you space because I hadn’t wanted to push your boundaries.” 

Great, the squirming feeling was back again, and Damian felt his cheeks heat as he fought his hands to keep still. 

“Are we friends?” He meant it in a teasing way, but it came out a tad sarcastic. Friends didn’t sound right. But he didn’t spare any more thought on it as Marinette winced, and suddenly, he wanted to take back what he had said. Joy. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to assume,” she said with a sheepish smile as she turned back to her sketchbook. “I won’t say anymore on that, I know you like your alone time.” 

They fell into silence as Damian took his seat on the edge of the fountain, taking care to keep a bit of distance from Marinette. The birds chirping rhythmically acted as white noise that filled the silence, and he even found himself relaxing in Marinette’s presence. Flipping to an empty page in his sketchbook, he stared at it for a moment, something bothering him. 

“I would not be opposed to being friends,” he said quietly, looking up from where he had been studying the blank page of his sketchbook. 

The curve of the smile on her lips told him she heard him though, and he felt his own lips quirked up at that. Being the cause of someone else’s smile for once left him feeling content. He turned back to the empty page of his sketchbook and got to work, only glancing up periodically to subtly observe the girl beside him before returning his attention back to his page with a slight smile. 

An hour later when it was about time to head back for lunch, Damian was satisfied with his sketch. Casting his eyes up into the sky, it was darker now in preparation for the rainfall that would inevitably happen in the next few hours. The sun had long hidden behind the clouds. He quickly snapped his sketchbook closed at seeing movement from Marinette, not wanting her to see what he had drawn. 

“That was a relaxing session. We should do it again sometimes,” she said with a smile, standing up with her sketchbook under an arm as she rolled her shoulders that had gone stiff from sitting in the same position for a long time. 

He gave a nod in response, also getting to his feet but not yet ready for their time to be over. If he hadn’t remembered wrong, in his nightmare, Marinette hadn’t returned to the manor for lunch after her trip to the garden. She had gone out to eat so that she could head straight to the fabric store after. Marinette’s dead body flashed in his mind. No. 

Marinette—who was real and alive in front of him—had started to walk towards the front of the manor, and Damian reached out a hand, fingers enclosing her wrist to stop her. “Don’t—”

Don’t go, he wanted to say but he swallowed the words down. He couldn’t stop her from going about her day’s activities without seeming a little crazy. Her wide eyes stared back at him before flickering to his hand still locking onto her wrist. Quickly letting go as if burnt, he cleared his throat. 

With an air of casualness he did not feel, he kept his face carefully blank as he invited himself along to where she would be going. “I will join you for lunch.” 

In this way, it would allow him to keep watch on Marinette to ensure nothing happens to her and get away from his nosy family all in one. He knew his cretins of siblings would pounce on him as soon as Marinette was away, and Father would let them continue their antics as he was just as curious in what caused his so-called out of character behaviour. 

He frowned as he catalogued Marinette’s wide eye reaction to his… announcement. Perhaps he had committed a social faux pas in inviting himself. However, she hadn’t looked like she was going to invite him along and he simply needed to keep her within his sight today, at least until the danger passed. She need not look at him as if he had sprouted another head. 

“Which place were you planning to have lunch at?” Damian asked, snapping her back from her wide eye look and she looked away with pink dusting her cheeks. 

“Just this cafe around the corner near Fabric Fusion. It shouldn’t be a far walk from here,” she said, twiddling her thumbs and looking anxious about something. “And you really don’t have to come with me, I know you must be busy—”

“I insist,” Damian cut in, unsure if he should be offended that she seems to want to keep him from going with her or hurt that she doesn’t want him to be spending time with her anymore. It was definitely the former, Damian isn’t so weak that he would get hurt over feelings. “I have nothing better to do with my time anyway.”

Which was untrue, because he did have painting to finish in his art room, though he didn’t mind putting that particular project on hold for Marinette. Ensuring her safety was a priority. 

“Oh, alright,” she huffed out after a moment, looking all flustered as she couldn’t seem to find a reason to refuse him. “You can put your stuff away in the manor first then, I’ll wait for you at the front gates.” 

Even though the idea of being apart from Marinette long enough to put his things away back in the manor was suffocating him, he persevered through it. It would be a catastrophe if he let his attachment to her overrule his life. He would do this. 

“Don’t leave without me,” he demanded, adding a scowl for good measure before he all but rushed back to the manor to return his sketchbook and pencil back to his room. 

As he turned to leave his room, he turned back to give his sketchbook a considering look. Picking back up the sketchbook he had just put down, he flipped to the recent sketch he had drawn in the garden. Without a conscious thought of doing so, he ripped the page from his sketchbook and folded it neatly before tucking it into his coat pocket. 

Hurrying back downstairs, he passed by the dining hall where his family were already having lunch. He kept walking, ignoring their confused looks and Grayson’s call of, “where are you heading, baby bird? It’s lunch time!” 

Grabbing a black umbrella from the umbrella stand on the way out, he returned in record time to the spot where he had left Marinette, who was mumbling down at her now half opened purse. Huffing out a relieved breath at seeing her still standing and not dead on the ground like his imagination had led him to believe, he cleared his throat to announce his present. 

Startled, she spun around with a squeak, one hand resting above her heart as the other shut her purse closed with a click. She smiled with teeth, a sheepish look on her face as she said, “you scared me!” 

“I can tell,” Damian deadpanned, though not without amusement. 

“Well, don’t scare me next time,” she said, crossing her arms as she looked miffed by his amusement. “Anyway—now that you’re here, let’s go!”

“Let’s,” he agreed, and they were off.