Chapter Text
What did you say to someone you were on a date with but not dating?
Damian’s hand (and face, and most of his skin, it seemed like) felt over warm, making the night air even cooler against his side where Marinette had been pressed during the concert. His only point of contact was her hand in his, still holding each other from when she had reached out for him. He didn’t know the city but she did, and though he couldn’t help the tenseness in his shoulders from feeling so out of place in unfamiliar streets, the way Marinette knew which streets to take without looking, knew which alleyways were safe shortcuts, she assured him, she’s been walking here since she was eleven, knew the people who hung out on doorsteps and in outside seats for cafes on their path- it reminded him of the easy familiarity he had with Gotham as one of it’s vigilantes. He was never so open or friendly as her, but then again he isn’t sure that even Dick is as friendly as Marinette. She waved again at a family walking home from a movie the younger son had been excitedly explaining to her, and turned back to him again, grinning. He had so many ideas for sketching her by now that he thought he could fill a book, and most of them involve the contrast of shadows and light against the features of her smile and the shine of her eyes, whether it was from the bright underlighting of the concert’s constant movement or the way the streetlights just seemed to settle hazily, almost lovingly over her.
Distantly, he could imagine Drake teasing him over finally finding a crush and losing his heart in the city of love. It seemed vastly unimportant to tonight’s events that he was in Paris, though. It was enough to be by Marinette’s side.
And he was never telling Drake about his crush. He and Marinette would part tonight as friends, and distance would eventually lessen the affection blooming in his chest each time he thought about looking at her easy smile or the way she had reached for him despite barely knowing him. Maybe she would call every once in a while for the first few months, until the time difference and her busy work life and his busy vigilante life left them with more missed calls and awkwardly unresponded to texts than actual connection. He would occasionally find whatever sketchbook he filled with her image and flip through the pages nostalgically, wondering how she was doing. After their friendship petered out, she’d never think of him at all.
“What do you like to eat?” She asked him, drawing him out of what were quickly becoming very sad and self-pitying thoughts. He stole another glance at her that became simply gazing as her eyes darted around the streets, clearly drawing up some battle plan for getting them food.
“I’m a vegetarian,” He responded almost reflexively, and she just nodded, brows furrowing. “Also, I’ve never been to Paris and have no idea what would be available on the way back to your parents’ bakery.”
She hummed lightly, then lit up. “Hang on, do we want to grab something and walk? Or find a place to sit?”
It took a very short second to weigh the cons of going back to Drake sooner with the pros of spending perhaps another hour or two with her. “I wouldn’t mind a restaurant.”
She didn’t let him in on her plan, simply hurried a little faster (a negligible difference to him, as he had a longer stride) down the way they were already walking. She pulled him along down another side street, to a small shop with heavy curtains blocking the windows view in and a tinted glass door, upon which was simply printed ‘INDIAN CUISINE’. She turned back to him with a sheepish grin. “Chloe decided to try going vegetarian for about six months, and since this place is pretty close to our school, it’s one of the places we’d go for lunch. I hope it’s not…” She trailed off, unsure what it might not be.
“It’s perfect,” He assured, a little relieved that it had Bourgeois’ stamp of approval even if he had no reason at all to mistrust Marinette’s tastes. “When were those six months? She’s never brought it up once to me.” He pulled open the door and ushered her through first, only to gain a measuring look from the Indian woman sitting at the desk behind it as she bustled out towards them.
“Marinette!” She cried out, sweeping her forward to look her over. “It’s been far too long. You drag that girl back here even if it’s just for a quick bite, won’t you? I miss her snark.”
“Of course, Adi,” Marinette laughed along.
“And who is this?” Adi moved her gaze back to Damian, and he met it firmly, not allowing her sharp eyes to unnerve him. “A good boy for you? He opened the door and everything, so he must not be too bad.” She said the last bit with barking laugh, one hand coming up to pinch his cheek lightly. He let her, if only because it was entirely novel to be treated so familiarly as Damian and so very unlike how people treated him in Gotham, or among the circles he usually ran in.
“This is Damian,” Marinette introduced him, and he gave her a short nod when she released him. “We just got out of a concert and we’re starving, Adi. What do you still have tonight? He’s vegetarian.”
She ushered them to a booth, grabbing a pitcher on the way and turning over the cups on the table to pour water. “Oh, the undhiyu for sure, I have finally figured out what my nephew has been doing wrong with it, and it is fit for service again: this boy has been ordering me dried coconut, Marinette. Dried!! And now I have a girl who brings me two coconuts a day from her market in exchange for fresh naan, so I have set him straight. You’ll have your paneer sodas, yes?”
“Please and thank you,” Marinette beamed up at her before Adi left for the kitchen, and he found another type of lighting to draw her in: the dim orange glow of the restaurant with none of the intensity of the harsh roving concert lights or the gentle diffuse glow of Paris at night. She looked back at him and he had to stop himself from glancing away as if caught. Her eyes were crinkled at the edges, mirth spilling out. “Adi likes to think she’s adopted Chloe, and maybe even me by association, and it’s kind of just best to let her have her way.”
“Between their forceful personalities, I think I can see a resemblance,” Damian couldn’t help but grin back. His cheeks were almost aching, and he wasn’t sure he’d smiled this much ever. Briefly, he thought that Dick would be over the moon and probably say something about being soooo proud of him, could he see him now. Father… might smile, but wouldn’t say too much else. Usually that didn’t bother Damian, he himself being a man of few words when there was something nice to say, but somehow the idea of his father not having something to tell him over this made his stomach feel twisted. Not the complicated knots it had been tying itself in around Marinette tonight, but something a little more sour. He shook it off in time to hear Marinette tentatively say his name.
“Sorry, just thinking about… well.” He laughed, a little darkly for how bright and candy-sweet the evening had been with her. “Family resemblance, I suppose. Don’t ask.”
She nodded solemnly, the worry dissipating from her expression. Most of it, at least. She was holding a napkin in her hand, her fingers worrying the edge of it. “I won’t press. But- about family, I guess- did you ever text Tim back again?” Her face flushed after asking, and she hurried to stammer out, “Not that- you don’t have to tell me what he said, or anything, just-“
“I rarely indulge his histrionics anyway, so he should think very little of being ignored,” Damian rolled his eyes, but couldn’t help the smirk that also slipped out, thinking of the bewilderment he had inadvertently put Drake through. That Drake was putting himself through. “And forgive me, my time was far happier spent with my date than reading his nonsense. But rest assured, he’ll have his chance to bombard me in person when I return to the hotel room.”
That did finally ease her it seemed, and he noted that she didn’t like being the cause of other’s contentions. Her bright smile returned, and he thought foolishly to himself that he had missed it, despite it only having been gone a few minutes. And at his own demeanor and dark thoughts, no less. The idea that she had been worried over him , when she had been having a panic attack not half an hour earlier, left him both inordinately pleased at her attention to him and worried himself at her seeming inability to think of herself and her own needs.
“Are you still feeling- better?” He asked with an odd hand wave towards her, not having a better way to ask how recovering from the panic attack was going. “And… forgive me if it’s intrusive, but does that happen often?”
She shook her head, mouth falling into a bitter slant. He wanted to shake himself for upsetting her again, but he wanted to hear those answers more. “I am feeling better- I promise- and no, I haven’t- haven’t had a panic attack in two years?” She cocked her head to the side, eyes flitting to one side in a silent count. “Two and a half years, give or take a month.”
“That’s… good,” He found himself replying awkwardly, unsure of what else to say that wasn’t a trite condolence or a too-demanding question.
She laughed at it though, and this time her tone was just a bit too dark. “Yeah, it is good. Those friends I mentioned who liked that song? Two and a half years ago was when I transferred schools and stopped having to see them.”
“What did they do ?” Damian’s mouth spoke before his brain could stop him, but she had said that she wanted to tell him, and he kind of wanted a list of names and crimes against Marinette so he could- give them some sort of retribution. She didn’t seem the type to take it for herself, though he supposed Chloé perhaps might have dealt with them.
She opened her mouth, but before she could answer the door opened again, and Adi rushed back out, a stack of to-go boxes balanced on one hand and a tray with two glasses in the other. She handed the boxes off to the delivery man with quick pleasantries and then turned back to them, setting their drinks down. “The undihyu will be out soon, Marinette, and I have an extra box- No! No saying no- you will get it to Chloé and she will remember to visit yours truly instead of disappearing from my life.”
“Yes, Adi,” Marinette said dutifully even as the woman hurried away again, grinning abashedly before turning back to Damian. “It’s- there’s some things I won’t get into, but most of them had known me since we were small, and one of them- Alya? She was the one who always played that song- had just moved there a year before, but she was my best friend. This was back when Chloé and I hated each other,” she waved that off quickly, seeing his confusion. “This was when that changed, actually. A new girl started in our class, and she was an attention seeking pathological liar. She framed me for theft- that’s when the panic attacks started- and threatened me, and no one believed me.” Her eyebrows furrowed deeply, her gaze drilling into the table as her hands picked at the napkin again.
He reached out and took her hand, stilling it. Her eyes darted back to him, wide and angry at the past. They softened though, looking at him again, and he was glad in that moment to have connected with her so quickly, to have liked her so much despite how complicated it felt, to have somehow gained her trust just for the opportunity to listen to this. To show her that he was on her side, that he believed her. It seemed that despite her clear inherent goodness , Marinette had been left with a devastating lack of people willing to offer her the same.
“Chloe found out about the panic attacks, and- well, she’s always been above such petty things as other people, so she didn’t give a shit about Lila,” Marinette rolled her eyes, drawing the name out into an insult. “And she took my side, and helped me, and Alya couldn’t stand that. It didn’t take long for Lila to make her hate me- I don’t know what lies she spun, but from then on it was me and Chloe against the two of them, and no one else really had the spine to stand up and pick sides or get between us.” The anger had faded by the last sentence, replaced by a soft, sadness. Damian had a sense that this had been what hurt her more than anything, that no one had picked her over this girl’s lies and hatred. He could feel anger burning in his own gut, low and simmering and wanting to track down this Lila, find a way to make her pay, but Marinette was here in front of him now, so he stamped it out, leaving the embers for later.
“I’m glad you had Chloé,” he said, squeezing her hand again gently. “As callous as my relationship with her is, I know that having her on your side can be akin to a small army, and it pleases me that she was there to defend and support you.”
Marinette chuckled at that, voice a little wet. “Me too.”
He smiled gently for her, as soft as he could make his expression without falling into inauthenticity. “And though I wish that hadn’t happened to you, it sounds like you showed a great strength to continue on through that however long it went on. I wish I could have been there, if just to have given you more support.”
There was a warm, intoxicating gleam in her eyes when he finally mustered the courage to meet them again. She squeezed his hand back as a new and enigmatic smile graced her face, and he should really stop being surprised at how many times she could manage to take his breath away. Everything about her was warmth, from her expression to her hand in his to the awkward bump of her feet against his under the table.
“Damian,” She started to say, his name sweeter sounding on her tongue than he has ever heard it. “I-“
The moment was doused once again by Adi sweeping in, delivering two steaming bowls and a large plate of naan. “Here you are, my dears, and you don’t- don’t look at me like that, Marinette, it is on the house for two young lovers, yes?” She gave them a delightfully smug look as he and Marinette flushed, disentangling their hands and Marinette tried to stammer something out, but Adi shushed them. “It is the last of the pot, Marinette, and the end of the night. If not you, it would have been tossed out or put out for the alley dogs. You are such a sweet friend to Chloe, and the two of you to me, and it is a small way to give back some of what you have given me.” Her eyes flashed to Damian ever so briefly, and he knew she’d heard at least some parts of their conversations tonight, even if she probably already knew more of Marinette’s troubles than him. But to have her echo some small part of his thoughts… he gave her another quiet nod, and understood what this would mean to her, to Marinette.
He would still be paying and leaving a tip anyway, but that would be a battle for later.