#batshipwinter

Week 1: Bruce Wayne December 1st - December 7th Naughty/Nice List, Mistaken Identity/Identity Porn, Praise Kink, Time/Dimension Travel Bonus Prompt: Touch Starved

Week 2: Dick Grayson December 8th - December 14th Home for the Holidays, Unmasked, Virginity Kink, Fake/Pretend Relationship Bonus Prompt: Flight/Flying

Week 3: Barbara Gordon December 15th - December 21st Mistletoe, Truth Serum, Object Insertion, Only One Bed Bonus Prompt: Honeymoon

Week 4: Jason Todd December 22nd - December 28th Cabin in the Woods, Lazarus Pit, Somnophilia, Love Spell Bonus Prompt: Winter Holiday

Week 5: Tim Drake December 29th - January 4th Gift Giving, Communicators/Comm. Issues, CNC/Dubcon, Relationship Reveal Bonus Prompt: New Years

Week 6: Stephanie Brown January 5th - January 11th Frostbite, Winter Uniform, Breeding Kink, Soulmates Bonus Prompt: Meet Cute

Week 7: Cassandra Cain January 12th - January 18th Clothes Sharing, Holiday/Charity Gala, Exhibitionism/Voyeurism, Jealousy/Possessiveness Bonus Prompt: Proposal

Week 8: Damian Wayne January 19th - January 25th Baking Cookies, Hero/Civilian, Size Kink, Age/Role Reversal Bonus Prompt: Birthday Wish

Week 9: Duke Thomas January 26th - February 1st Cuddling/Huddling for Warmth, Injured on Patrol, Edging, Omegaverse Bonus Prompt: First Love

Snow whispered softly against the massive windows of Wayne Manor, layering the city outside in silver calm. Inside, chaos ruled in a way only the Bat Family could manage: laughter echoing down hallways, bickering bouncing off marble pillars, and the scent of cinnamon and pine threaded through everything Alfred touched. Garlands shimmered under chandelier light, and every polished surface reflected the flicker of the giant Christmas tree standing guard in the main hall.

This was Duke Thomas’s first Christmas under the Wayne roof. He still hadn’t quite learned how to walk through the manor without feeling small, but tonight the loneliness pressed less sharply. There were people everywhere now—the Titans mixing with the Bats, Stephanie and Tim tossing jokes over cocoa, Gar, Jamie and Raven standing somewhere between bored and amused. For once, Duke didn’t have to hide in corners pretending to text. But amid all this noise, his eyes kept finding Cassandra Cain.

She moved like smoke between crowds—quiet, grounded, effortlessly graceful. Where others announced themselves, she appeared. A hand on Alfred’s shoulder while he passed out food, a rare half-smile when Damian tried to hang mistletoe three inches too low. Cass didn’t say much, but Duke didn’t need words. A glance was enough.

Near the fireplace, Duke caught a snippet of conversation that made him grin over his mug of cocoa.

Tim Drake: “Look I’m over it, it’s Christmas, but he did try to kill me, Dick. He followed me to Titans Tower no less.” Richard ‘Dick’ Grayson: “Jason. Ever since he took that death trip, he's been a different person.” Tim Drake: “Well, that's no excuse. Raven died four or five times, and she's just sweet as Dr. Pepper.” Dick: “Yeah, yeah. Well, I think it’s closer to four though. Lemme see. Two times with Brother Blood, once with me on the team, once with you—let’s not forget . . .”

Cass stood by the mantle nearby, twisting a red ornament string in her gloved fingers. When Duke looked her way, she tilted her head, curious at the grin flickering over his face. He only shrugged, mouthing, Bats being Bats. Her answering smile looked like approval—or maybe quiet mischief.

By the Christmas tree, wrapping paper began to pile up near a smaller explosion of laughter.

Stephanie Brown: “Hey, Jay, did you buy that sweater knowing that red dot was on it because you could get it at a discount?” Jason Todd: “What? Did I what?” Stephanie Brown: “You did, didn't you?” Jason: “Steph… seriously? I’m actually kind of stunned here. I bust my ass, blow my savings on this ridiculous Christmas sweater—because, you know, I figured I’d do something nice for once—and this is how you thank me? Merry freakin’ Christmas, I guess.” Stephanie Brown: “Well, Alfred told me you did.” Jason: “You told her? How could you tell her? Oh, Et Tu Alfred? Et Tu?” Mr. Pennyworth: “I didn't speak out of turn, Master idiot— ahem, Jason. She tricked you.”

Jason’s grumbling retreated toward the corridor. His footsteps faded into the rumble of Damian’s laughter and the faint notes of Kori’s Tamaran caroling from another room.

Duke watched Cass out of the corner of his eye—she was suppressing a laugh. When she finally exhaled a silent chuckle, her shoulders eased, and Duke felt the tension of the big house melt a little. He wanted to say something, maybe tease Jason with her, but then she was already drifting away to help Alfred carry a tray of pies.

Raven: “I was just in the kitchen and we need ice.” Barbra Gordon: “In winter.” Raven: “I know, but Kori wants to make this Tamaran thing and . .” Jason Todd: “En’uf said. Dick, she’s your girl—let’s take the Bentley.” Tim: “I’ll get some coffee for the ‘nog.”

The clatter of keys signaled the start of yet another adventure. Duke found himself roped in, jacket half-zipped before he realized it. Cass brushed his arm lightly as he left—a blink-and-you-miss-it gesture that steadied him more than it should have.

Snow glittered on the Bentley’s hood as they rolled out the manor gates, laughter fogging the car windows.

Jay: “I’ll drive.” Richard ‘Dick’ Grayson: “And what about your license?” Todd: “What about it?” Richard ‘Dick’ Grayson: “Do you have it?” Todd: “It's fine.” Dick: “It was a yes or no question.” Jay: “Okay, yes, it's fine. We're going up the street, I don't need my license.” Dick: “Jaybird, this is a vintage car, and I’m a cop. You can’t drive unless you have your license on you, so could you go get it. Please?” Jay: “I would, but . . it’s expired.” Dick: “When did your license expire?!” Jay: “I don't know! Like, while I was dead.” Tim: “That’s your excuse for everything recently.” Dick: “Then you're not driving!” Jay: “Well, I drove the Batmobile yesterday.” Dick: “Well, Jaybird that's illegal.”

Duke laughed, warmth spreading through him despite the cold outside. For all their insanity, this was what family looked like—imperfect, ridiculous, but real. He texted Cass a blurry photo of snow on the windshield and the caption: We live dangerously. She replied an emoji—one raised eyebrow and a snowflake.

When they returned, the manor pulsed with life again—music, chatter, and the faint hum of the Titans trying to explain karaoke to Bruce. Duke slipped through the milling guests, snagging a cookie from the dessert table as he passed a new pocket of conversation.

Jamie ‘Blue Beetle’ Reyes: “I’ve heard it too. Gotham has alligators in the sewer.” Tim Drake: “That’s just Killer Croc.” Duke Thomas: “Besides that. Like a normal, but obviously huge gator.” Raven: “I also have a question, pretty boy. Why are you encouraging all this?” Duke: “I wouldn't say I'm encouraging it, I'm just open to the possibility.” Tim Drake: “Well, I'm not. Not unless I see some cold, hard evidence.” Duke: “And maybe it's there. Proof at last, Duke, proof at last.” Raven: “Is he all right?” Stephanie Brown: “I wouldn't say so, no. He's a Batfamily member, so.”

Cass lingered near the edge of the group, an amused look flickering between Duke and Raven. When he caught her eye, she made a subtle motion—two fingers wiggling like an alligator’s jaws. He stifled a laugh.

Later still, the party slowed. The air thickened with warmth and the smell of burnt sugar from too many toasted marshmallows. In a corner near the study firelight pooled golden, where Barbara held court with Garfield and Duke, who was now juggling gifted poetry books in one arm.

Barbra Gordon: “Hey Duke. Where’s Bruce?” Duke Thomas: “He's leading Damian’s cow out the house, again.” Barbs: “Okay. Here are those poetry books you wanted. I used them in the Freshman Lit class I taught last year. If you have any questions about poetry, just ask me.” Garfield ‘Beast Boy’ Logan: “Yeah, I have a question. I understand why guys get into poetry. To get girls. But why do girls like poetry?” Raven: “Because girls think with their brains.”

Cass slipped into the room halfway through that exchange, quiet as ever. She perched on the arm of Duke’s chair, scanning the books. One finger landed on a line of text. She didn’t read it out loud, just met his gaze and nodded—a silent good choice. Duke felt his pulse trip over itself.

Down one corridor, the last scraps of conversation carried softly over the fire.

Damian: “So you're saying... I'm the only one you were ever nice to?” Jason Todd: “Pretty much. I tried to kill replacement. Dick was a Dick to me, and y’know I don’t take no shit.” Jay: “You know, you have a real opportunity here. You can break the cycle. You can be a good brother to Mari’. You can be the one kid in this family who takes care of the younger one and looks out for her.” Damian: “How is that fair?” Jay: “Yeah, you're right.”

Duke passed by, pausing just long enough to catch the warmth in Jason’s tone—rare, genuine. Cass appeared beside him again, silent as moonlight, watching the same moment unfold. Without looking at him, she murmured, “They’re learning.”

He smiled. “We all are. Roof?”

Cassie nodded. 

The strains of laughter and soft music drifted down the hall, the house breathing contentment for once. Snow glimmered beyond the tall windows, and for the first time since he moved in, Duke didn’t feel like a visitor in Wayne Manor. He felt like part of something built from scars, second chances, and every quiet, unspoken thing that passed between him and Cass.

Snow drifted through the quiet night like the slow fluttering of forgotten wishes. The world below them glowed softly with the hush of winter — garlands glimmered, halos of light shimmered upon windowpanes behind them, and the air itself seemed to hold its breath.

Duke Thomas — Signal — sat beside Cassandra beneath the outcropping of the window, on one of the rooftops of the Wayne Manor.

The reflection of Christmas lights dancing along his golden skin his thoughts swirled like the flakes above, fragments of a year’s ache and wonder folding upon each other. He can see past nights, them, together on the roof like this, be Duke hopes this night will be different.

“With so many changes in my life, I know I can rely on you. You are the only thing in my life that feels real.” His voice carried warmth that even the cold wind could not steal — steady, reverent, as though every word was a truth carved carefully from his heart.

Cassandra’s gaze lifted to him slowly, dark eyes wide with something new and fragile, like dawn breaking after too many battles in the dark. Her breath trembled before it became words. “I’ve fallen in love. My first memory is fighting. I didn’t think such violent emotions could happen to someone like me.” In the glow, she looked almost otherworldly — a warrior softened by a peace she didn’t yet understand. The confession left her trembling, not from fear, but from the strangeness of being open — unguarded.

Duke’s hand rose, tentative but certain, the way light touches shadow before merging with it. A lock of her midnight hair had fallen over her cheek; he brushed it aside with a gentleness that made her heart flutter like wings against glass.

“I can’t see anything I don’t like about you,” he said, voice tender with awe. “I could die right now, Cassie, and not regret it. I’m just... happy. I’ve never felt that before. I’m just exactly where I want to be.”

Their foreheads met softly, two stars finding orbit after drifting too long through separate skies. Around them, the snow kept falling, the city whispering faintly through the hush — but in that moment, time itself seemed to pause, bowing to love’s quiet, eternal fire.

For a long, weightless moment, time seemed to surrender to the stillness. The only sound was the quiet conversation between falling snow and beating hearts. Cassandra’s eyes searched Duke’s face — every hesitant tremor of his breath, every shadow softened by light. The warmth between them grew, fragile yet infinite, like the space between a spark and flame.

Duke tilted his head just slightly, a silent question lingering in the air. His hand rested against her cheek now, gloved thumb tracing the edge of her jaw as though memorising her through touch alone. The world faded into a blur of silver and gold — only her eyes remained, deep as the night and full of something unspoken.

When she leaned in, it was barely a movement, almost instinct. The tips of their noses brushed, soft as snowfall. Then her lips found his — hesitant, searching — and the chill around them melted. It wasn’t hurried or grand, but slow and reverent, the kind of kiss that feels like the beginning and ending of everything at once.

The city blurred beyond their small universe: the glitter of lights danced on icicles, a distant choir hummed through open doors, and snow landed quietly in their hair. Cassandra pulled back first, her breath trembling into the space between them. “You make the world quiet,” she whispered.

Duke smiled, forehead resting against hers. “Then I guess I’ll have to stay,” he murmured, his voice a flicker of gold in the winter air.

“I vow to fiercely love you in all your forms, Batgirl, Orphan, my Cassie now and forever.”

And there, beneath the gentle hush of falling snow, they kissed once more — not from uncertainty, but from knowing. The night stretched out like a canvas painted in light, and for the first time, both heroes felt entirely, beautifully human.

@batship-winter

While Damian had ingredients to spare, to bake a certain amount of cookies in a finite amount of time with preheating the oven. Cutting fruit. Preparing the preserve. Making the first batch of Joe letting it rest. Then making the second batch of letting it rest, then the third batch. Preheating each oven as required. Taking out the cookies, letting them cool. Filling them in various jars with a bow on top. 

He needed a different team. One more person for sure, they’d work in shifts, and if Damian confessed to Jay, it could just work. 

Yet who could Damian call? 

Damian nudged Cass out of the way to the mush of the fruit she had created, squeezing her shoulder as he passed. Going through gloop, the removing the leaves almost an inch long, as he found them, Damian tried for salvage.

“I’m sorry, Cass,” moaned, hiding her face behind her hands. 

Damian nodded solemnly at the trio of Steph, Tim and Cass, at the former comforted the latter. 

“You know how Alfred gets with a dirty kitchen. Why don't we clean up?” he gave them a mission to assuage their guilt.

In unison, the three nodded. Hanging on his word.

“Let me do a quick inventory, after the cleanup,” he put the still intact ingredients in the fridge and the pantry mix in them with the rest of the items to ensure his siblings didn't get any bright ideas to start cooking without him again. “And we can make a fresh batch tomorrow.” 

Nodding eagerly, the 3 in their heist to get cleaning supplies, almost tripped over each other.

Damian left them to it.

It was barely noon on 12 February, his deadline of Valentine's Day weekend was fast approaching. 

Mulling it over in his mind, Damian realised he needed a team and he needed one bad. He needed, to contact a minimum two people, and if both agreed, all the better, but at least hopefully one of them would.

As he walked to the cave reasoning to ask the computer for suggestions, Damian was his self again. He went over the criteria, which was thus:

Would be welcome at the Wayne mansion - it made no sense to find another kitchen equipped with industrial sized ovens this close to Valentine's Day.

Capable of setting ego aside, and following instructions for the greater good

Actually capable of measuring ingredients , so someone proficient in tasks adjacent to Cooking

Lastly, unattached during Valentine's Day

The computer works silently, the code working through the database of known heroes, current gossip, and dossier of abilities.

Looking at the names on the screen, Damien had a thought. And it's surprised him at its insistence.

The computer screen informed him, she met all the criteria. 

Single with no plans for Valentine's Day. 

Altruistic to a fault, so wouldn't be opposed to the idea of baking as a way of raising money for a good Cars. 

Proficient at potions, which required precise calculation and measurement of, often fresh produce as ingredients. 

The computer didn't say, and while Kara, Supergirl was out being that she was Jason’s very recent X, Damien remembered in the vauge way of things that hadn't concerned him at the time, perhaps Raven may also have dated Jason. 

She’d been a titan with Grayson. And then with Drake. And with him as well.

Maybe, reaching out to Raven would have the advantage of Jason wanting to hang around more? 

Would Jason, instead of wanting to be with Damian, prefer reconnection with Raven? 

While it was true, Damien didn't have much of a choice between Super-girl and Raven, as he asked the Batcomputer to contact Raven for him, but the thought kept nagging at him anyway.

Raven listened while Damian Wayne went over the instruction, laying out the plan, timings, deadlines to meet, the same stuff as in the email with recipes he’d shared earlier, urging her to read it while she traveled on the short call for help. 

Something was definitely up. 

Raven’s preferred method of travel is by Portal. A tear in reality, allowing her to move from one place to another in a single step. 

It was practically impossible for her read the instructions between packing a weekend bag of appropriate outfits – Fresh coveralls for baking and then a couple of smart outfits, in case she needed to man the table with the baked goods. 

Luckily, she’d let her team know her whereabouts, as they’d been with her going over the Patrol roster for Valentine's Day weekend, when Damien's message come through.

“And here I thought I was doing you a favour.” A Raven kept the emotion out of a statement. 

Raven was glad to hear from Damian, her teammate from so many years ago. 

Once a Titan always a Titan.

Glad to see him grown and matured. And yet the boy, or Raven guessed, man wonder, was still very much himself. 

This was Damian’s show. 

He picked out the recipes. Bought the ingredients and planned everything along with redundancies down to the second. 

He was not to be disagreed with. This little talking down to the troops, Damien engaged in was for image and control. Ravan understood that. 

It was for a good cause and the trip would allow her to reconnect with many old friends she hasn't seen for a while. Raven wasn't one to complain, but with Damien, if you gave an inch, he would use that as a lever to move the Earth.

To set the tone of their joint venture, but loathed to delay the process - it was for charity after all, the hero chose her criticism carefully.

10 minutes earlier:

I concentrated on the kitchen. Wayne Manor. Gotham city.

Next step, I was inside Wayne Manor. As a precaution, not that I sensed anyone hostile, I pressed my back against the door, weekend-bag in a death grip. 

I looked like a grubby underdressed pleeb and I was Mr. Damian Wayne’s guest. 

I dragged in a nervous breath, and caught wind of the most tantalising scent.

"Did you already make batch?" I dashed past Damian who’d turned to face me, deeper into the kitchen, a cozy space with shinny appliances and spotless tile that mirrored the deep forest of his eyes. He was miffed. 

Round spice tins were stuck to a long magnetic board and three trays of cookies sat cooling on the quartz counter top of the centre island. 

Was he impressive or what? 

In the 15 minutes, it took her to get here. He already had a batch ready. And it was only early evening. By tomorrow morning, they'd probably be able to fulfil half the order Jason required.

My smile broke free, my toes curling under like I was in a dippy romcom, despite my rumpled clothes, unfit for this magnificent manor.

"Why is my baking funny?" He stood stiffly by the oven. [role reversal of sorts]

Not waiting for his answer, Raven put her weekend bag in an empty space of the pantry. Rummaged through her bag till she found a fresh pair of overalls. Victor, encouraging her to work on a Raven cycle, and bought the pair, going so far as to having them monogram. But as this pair hadn’t touched grease yet, they'd do as chef jacket and pants.

She went to put them on over her civilian outfit of Indigo shorts and pink tank top – it was warm yet in coastal city. Raven worked one leg, then the other, one arm, then the other and zipping it up till under her chin. Covered from head to toe in heat retardant covers, Raven walked out of the pantry. Reporting for duty.

She conveyed her willingness to follow orders by throwing Damian a mocking half salute. 

While she made the decision to help out and agreed with the plan Damien outlined it wouldn't do to let him abuse a good cause to behave like a tyrant.

Besides, Jason would laugh himself silly if she turned into a ‘yes man’. And we really couldn't have that.

Raven smiled wider at the idea of seeing Jason again. It really had been too long. While Vic taught her cars and the basics of cooking. Jay, under Alfred tutelage was a MasterChef. And he tolerated nothing less, if you were the name next to him in the chore chart. He could elevate a simple grilled cheese into gourmet

Raven slipped the com, disguised as an ordinary mobile phone in the hip pocket specially designed for the gadget. It was perfectly hidden without showing any lines while being easily accessible in a pinch.

“And what are you going to do?” Raven asked Damien once he was done meeting out orders, assigning tasks for her. 

Damian sighed. 

“You need not concern yourself with that. I'll work with you to begin with, and once you get your rhythm . . Well, then, I'll leave you to it.”

While the answer didn't clarify anything about his tasks, Raven found that commanding attitude insistently hot. Who knew. 

Dami all grown up, all bronze statue, with his T-shirt, pushed up to his elbows, showing muscular arms, the first few buttons of his T-shirt undone in response to the heat, probably and it showed the sexiest colour Raven had ever seen. And she didn't even know she found a sexy. Even his hair was the unusual shade chocolate brown with streaks of red. She remembered it being cut short, but I guess in winter, it turned into a mane.

Beautiful, tall with sturdy green eyes - that assured her, he knew what he was doing, in the kitchen, and probably anywhere anywhere else, and all this topped off by a unique aura all of his own. 

She finally understood the meaning of - if you can't handle the heat get out of the kitchen.

“I think if you didn't have confidence in me, knowing what I was doing, and knowing how to do it, you wouldn't have called on me.” Raven pointed out. 

You mustn't let cute boys get away with too much, Kori had always warned her. 

Raven walked up to the counter, very aware of his eyes on her, ignore his emotions rubbing against her skin, doubly ignored her own and deftly measured the flour, crack the eggs in the little volcano in the flour. Raven using only her power constructs to knead the dough, read through the recipe.

 Confirming she had all the ingredients, Raven used a bit of Will to conjure more shadow limbs. Mystical energy sparked and crackled, Raven held them in check. Controlling her excitement at the way Damian watched her, as if he was impressed.

Each obsidian limb streaking across the counter went to work: measure, then portion the butter, sugar, vanilla, a pinch of salt. That was hard to estimate without touch, but Raven focused, and the construct mimicked her fingers.

Opening the packets with sharp, double-edged phantom blades, then once she was done with packets, the constructs became hands, to envelope a few items at a time, I wave my fingers like a conductor, directing them to put the leftover items back in the pantry. 

Raven had everything on hand to proceed efficiently. It had only taken 10 minutes from start to finish because after working the dough for that time, it needed to rest before rolling and cutting into heart shapes.

Damien, trying to recover from slack jaw without being obvious, he gave her a considered nod. 

“Thank you,” he said, and did Raven catch a hint of contrite wafting of him?

“If only you knew how my morning had been, you’d understand that I don't want anything going wrong at this late stage.”

He moved around the kitchen, avoiding her constructs as they vanished into the evening’s slanting light. 

Damian preheated the oven and began laying out baking sheets, greasing the metal and layer parchment paper on each of them.

Raven watched all this, a hip leaning on the counter.

“I’m delighted to hear it.”

Friday 13 early morning :

“What do you think?” Raven cradle the first batch of jam hearts neatly stacked in a jar, a bow on top ready for dissemination.

“I wouldn't know, it looks good to me. But then I'm not the one you need to impress.”

“I don't know about that Jay,” Raven said. She was being coy but it was coming on to the most commercialised romantic weekend of the year, and Jason smell delicious. The smells of baking having seeped into his skin.

“From what I've been told, you are the final authority on the matter.”

Jason smiled a knowing smile, a dimple peaking out. He plucked the jar from her and in the process, creased her finger with his rough callused ones. 

He might be wearing a lazy smile, but he watched her like a hawk, gauging her reaction. 

Are my attentions wanted, his feelings asked her silently. 

She returned his smiled with one of her own, prolonging skin contact keeping, possession longer than necessary, making her position clear.

Jason couldn't read her emotions, Raven doubted he would trust her micro expressions and body language until and unless she was obvious about her interest.

Friday 13 early morning :

The scents of baked goods got stronger the closer Damon got to the kitchen. 

Damian lost sight of Raven last night as she retired for rest. The cookies probably cooled on the weir racks, could now finally be packed into decorative jars. The first batch, with 5 a piece and then a ribbon tied in a bow should probably fill twenty jars. Jay last night volunteered to fill the jars, tie the bows before packing the jars into boxes, which he would take with him this morning to be placed at the venue, ready for Valentine's Day brunch the next day.

  Damien got up early without only a few hours of sleep, hoping for some alone time with Jason, while they packed the cookies.

What he heard a few steps away from the open kitchen stoped him in his tracks. 

The sound was a feminine giggle. Husky and inviting. The sound traveled down his spine, lighting his nerves on fire. 

“I don’t know.” Damian wished Jason’d stop touching her. Not because he didn’t like it, but because Damian liked it far too much. It made him hunger for things that could never be his. And if someone went hungry for too long, they started to starve. Started to hurt.

Raven probably felt him by his emotions by now, and Jason must’ve heard his silent footsteps as well. 

Unless they were occupied with each other to notice. 

Raven she manoeuvred so that Jay’s big frame was between her and Damian. Confusing him further. 

“I’ll load these box’s, then help with breakfast,” Jason said, two boxes piled on the counter, while he carried three out the door.

“Why don’t you get Damian to help you load up?”

Thursday 12 Late (last) night:

I concentrated on the kitchen.

“The day was tiering,” Jay said in the cool empty kitchen. “I’m going to retire for the night. You could use some rest too, Raven. If I were you, I’d take this opportunity to rest well before Valentine's Day begins.”

In the kitchen, Jason passed the counter and stopped, stared out the window… a large peace of clothing in his hands

Come on…

He carefully folded the cover-all with Raven printed above the chest in cyne blue embroidery. Jason walked a few steps and  hung it on the rack by the oven, and strode out of the kitchen, heading toward . . . . . 

I held my breath, tracking him with my magic.

She didn't know how long she’d been waiting for this moment. We have so much in common after all. 

Tomorrow. 

I'll see you tomorrow. 

I felt Jason move through the kitchen and up the stairs toward his suit of rooms.

And with that thought, Raven let go of her supernatural awareness and let's sleep, claim her.

13 The day before D’Day Morning 

Damian came into the kitchen and started baking cookies. With one corner of her mind, Raven felt the Robin’s conflicting feelings at having Jason a hair’s breadth away from Raven. 

Raven, using a metal stamp indented the middle of each heart shaped cookie. After the cookies Damian baked cooled, they fill each indent with strawberry preserve. 

Barely even thinking about it, Raven gathered in Damian’s sharp sadness and took it inside her. 

The emotions of others always settled like rocks against her heart but she knew she could deal with it. 

Somehow, she had the power to neutralise those negative feelings. It was her purpose as an empath. A compelled destiny.

She didn’t know how long she’d been sitting there when she was startled out of her trancelike state by a hot palm on the back of her neck. 

Only one person had the power to shatter her so completely. She blinked and turned to find Jason behind her. He pulled her to her feet, his face set in strident lines.

“What were you doing?” The simmering edge of his worry was visible in his eyes. And I felt his emotions warm my heart.

“Why don’t you get Damian to help you load up?” She managed after a beat. 

“I’ll clean this up and Jay, I think you know what I want for breakfast.” 

His caring gaze, narrowed at my deflection, yet it gave me strength. 

Negative emotions, pull me down like stone, but positive ones, and especially the care directed at me, fill me up like helium. With the strength of Jay’s concern for me, I could fly.

His face mere inches from mine watched each expression flitting over my face. I plan to stick around for the scrutiny. I fr frantically looked around for a distraction and my anxious gaze fell on to Damian. 

Who quick on the uptake, took the hint and hefted the cookie jar ladened boxes. 

Damian moved to the back door with purpose, and unnecessarily loud steps, waiting impatiently for someone to open it. 

Grateful for the excuse, I extricated myself from Jason's penetrating case and rushed to get the door for Damian.

Narrowing his eyes me, an amused grin played on his lips Jason straightened. 

His eyes sparked with the knowledge that Raven could’ve open the back door with a simple flick of her wrist.

Hefting four boxes to Damien three, Jason made his way to the door, sparing me a wink.

“Get the car keys will you, love.” Jay nudged his head at his occupied hands. And when Raven passed him, the dimples peaked out. 

Oh boy.

Damien watched Jason start the car, shift into drive and with an uncharacteristic wave drive off in his truck loaded with cookie, jars and other assorted items for the Valentine's Day charity event.

Damien felt his ears go red. Not with the cold because he forgot to put on his woollen hat. No, they felt hot to the touch. He was flushed with another emotion.

He…had not expected that.

The emotion came upon him suddenly, as he watched Jason insinuate himself into Raven's personal space. And Damian realised he liked it. Damian enjoyed watching Jason tower over her. Dominator, as Raven smiled knowingly back at Jason. 

It made him feel warm inside. Got his brain buzzing. And woke up every part of him. 

As he walked back, his slow steps crunching the snow, Damian Wayne newly minted 19-year-old realise something profound. He wanted to watch an interaction between them again. In a more intimate setting. And if he could cash in on unused birthday wishes, he’d give up every one, if only in that intimate space, Raven and Jason would let him participate.

Oddly, that frightened him because such recklessness could go wrong in so many ways, so many paths where he might fail and then where would he be. 

Heroes got the girl, didn’t they? 

Or in this case, the girl and the guy. He wanted them both with all the desires in his heart.

But he’d always been more of an antagonist, putting an end to other stories. Damian, a child assassin, scarcely might deserve happily ever after of his own.

The smell of cooling cookies filled his nose. Raven turned to face him as he opens the door, uncanny eyes, tiny stars swirling with impossible colours fill his vision. 

Now that he had her undivided attention, his words dried up. She seems to be managing with baking and filling the little hearts all on her own. Jason already helped her pack all the cookies that were done. It had been easier to speak with a purpose, the need to fulfil his obligation for charity, for Jason coursing through him. 

She was a Titan, after this Valentine's Day weekend was done, she had a home a team to go back to; it would be unwise for him to allow his attachment to grow. 

Jason, nearly 9 years has Senior, witnessed his journey from child to adulthood, assassin to Robin; but ever only saw Damien as the young boy from the league. It was ridiculous for Damien to think that that would change with one birthday, in one weekend.

She seemed to sense that he required time to organise his feelings and that was her greatest strength—the ability to intuit what others needed. Raven shifted her attention to Damian’s , room, and he became aware of how utilitarian the space was, how little of himself had been allowed to bleed through.

Everything here belongs to the legacy of Robin. Nothing is mine. 

Except, possibly, Raven. 

If I’m brave enough to take this step.

“It’s a metaphor.” She said as if reading his very thoughts. Raven went on. “I know it’s easier to be the stoic Robin, but enough is enough. Your name is Damian. Be Damian!” 

Her voice gentled, so much that he strained to hear it. “I like Damian.”

“Do you?” Softness warred with skepticism, and the doubt won, making his answer sharp. “You don’t even know me, Raven. Daughter of Trigon the Terrible. Not where I’ve come from or the things I’ve done along the way.”

So tell me,” she invited, rather than taking offence.

He…had not expected that. Perhaps he should have, as Raven rarely conformed to his preconceptions. Knowing so little about the mysterious, magical Titan complicated his ability to predict her behaviour further, but on some level, he also sensed that she wasn’t like anyone else in the universe.

“We have more important matters to discuss,” he said, trying to step around her. To get back to the kitchen, now that he had the a box of jars in his hands, “The rest of the baking—”

“Will wait. We’re on schedule for now. Everything else will keep if you want to talk to me. If you don’t, say that. Don’t make excuses about the job. Don't hide behind charity work.” 

She crossed her arms in front of her, trying to become an obstruction in his path.

She’s magnificent. 

And fearless.

Oddly, that frightened him.

I am not a coward, he thought inwardly. Not on the battlefield and not in matters of the heart. In his mother's words, it is okay to lose, but it is despicable to not have tried.

“I want to spend with you,” he finally admitted. “To pass time with you and…J…”

Why are words so difficult?

Raven seemed to have no such dilemma. She spoke her mind.

“I do too. And, believe me when I say this, so does Jason. But Damien, Jason is a lot of things, but he isn't a mind reader. You have to tell him with words.”

Her earnestness reached him, and Damian felt a smile as a blossom on his lips. He watched as Raven answered with one of her own. Hesitant at first, and then gentle. Full of joy and excitement for things to come.

Damien, felt confident in the future as heat blossom in his chest. The room felt warm and cosy. This time with Raven, Damien felt comfortable and excited, now that all the words were spoken, and his deepest desires out in the open, and best of all, reciprocated.