#needle and thread

pastel blue sewing supplies .ೃ࿔*.・˚.

SEQUEL TO 8-NEEDLE & THREAD

Damian stood in the shop annoyed. He had attempted to contact Alfred, but he was still unavailable. He didn't have his own measurements, on hand, and the only person who may possibly have them, would be his father.

'Father cannot know about this.'

Jon looked between them, nervously.

"I can take you measurements, you know." Marinette announced, "It might take a few minutes, but at least I wouldn't second guess myself."

Damian just nodded.

Mari could feel Damian tapping his leg for the thousandth time as she tried to get his measurements right. She threw her notebook on the floor, getting the boys' attention, and yanked Damian's tie down so they were eye level. Jon squeaked.

"I need you to fuckin' hold still. I get that you don’t like being touched, but this is the only way to get your measurements, unless you want it too tight on one side and too loose one the other." She snapped at him, letting go of the tie so he could stand up, "Uncle moves constantly, but it's easier to get his measurements."

Damian remained still, embarrassed he had been scolded like a child. He could feel the tips of his ears burning. Jon let out a small smile, noticing his best friend's embarrassment. He had ever seen Damian act this way and probably hated that he was there to witness it.

"Why don’t I go get us some drinks?" Jon suggested, "My treat. I already know Damian's choice."

"Where are you going?" Marinette asked.

"The café down the street." He answered.

She smiled, "I'll take a large Death cup."

"Death cup?" he questioned, "Never heard of it."

"The ladies there know my order." she replied, "It's my specialty."

Jon just shrugged and left for the drinks.

"Okay. We got the easy part out of the way." Marinette spoke up.

'Does she mean Jon?'

"Easy part?" He questioned, ready if she turned into a fan girl.

Marinette crossed her arms and shot him a look. Damian gulped realizing she understood what he thought.

"I have to get the inseam, now, Mr. No Touchy." She stated, "Just hold still. We get ot over with and you can leave when Jon gets back with my coffee. Deal?"

He sighed, "Deal."

Damian was quick to realize she was moving quickly and short-scripting her notes to help him.

"Got it." She smiled, "I'll start cutting fabric, right away, and you can come in tomorrow, as promised. I'll have you try it on and if anything needs to be fixed, I can do it right away."

He nodded, as she walked away. He watched as Marinette was already grabbing pins, thread, and bolts of fabric. Damian watched, fascinated by how focused she was, he almost missed Jon's return.

Jon handed him his earl Grey cup, but he notice him hesitate as he handed the seamstress hers. Damian watched as Marinette happily took it and chugged half the cup.

"Thank you!" She smiled.

"I don't know how you drink that." Jon gagged.

'Is it a lot of sugar?'

"Motivation." She answered, "See you, tomorrow."

Jon grabbed his arm and yanked him away.

"Why do you continue to drag me like a child, today?" Damian demanded.

"Your brother is banned from that shop." Jon said, as he continued to drag him, "I already called Conner."

"Jonathan." Damian growled.

Jon stopped and sighed, "Tim takes what 6-8 espresso shots, at the places that haven't banned him, right?"

"Last I recall." The young Wayne groaned.

"Marinette gets ten in hers." Jon declared.

Damian looked back towards the shop and started walking.

"Damian." Jon cried out.

"Go home." The young Wayne spoke, leaving no room to question.

Damian walked in through the back door, she had led them out of. It made a soft ding.

"You know, when I said tomorrow, I didn't mean midnight." Mari called out.

"I'm staying." Damian stated.

"Why?" She questioned.

"Jon told me about your cup." He admitted, "My brother is at eight shots, works for days, and functions on little to no sleep."

Marinette rolled her eyes, "I don't know how you people find me."

"I am not the only one to watch over you." He asked, amused.

"You are tonight." She sighed, "I moved my work upstairs. I came back down for my drink."

The Waynes' looked at Damian in confusion. His suit was completely different from theirs.

"Why does he get a special tux?" Jason demanded.

"I'm not sure." Bruce spoke, "The designer-"

"I used my personal designer." Damian stated, "She is very good with her craft."

"Good?" Tim shouted, "Why does yours look so much better than ours?"

Damian shrugged, "She did not wish for me to wear 'trash', as she called it."

"Trash?" Bruce questioned.

"I'd introduce you, Father, but she had me sign an NDA contract." he smiled, "We shouldn't be late."

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