#damijayrae

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.