Chapter Text
Just three months before the Olympics and they went they both attended the American Cup for Artistic Gymnastics. They had both won the all-around in the American cup.
Damian had been the golden boy to represent the Saudi Arabie, the one who promised Saudi’s first gold medal ever. In spite of the pressure and expectations he fully intended to take the individual all-around at the Olympics.
But before he had one more competition till the Olympics; the American cup. And so, he knew his competition, analyzed his contenders and reviewed their movements and consistency. He knew everything about them, everything he needed to to win.
He had spent most of the flight calculating his start value, his difficulty score, and everything else he could think of while on the flight.
While Damian was able to keep busy with his thoughts, he could still hear his teammates. Competing artistic gymnastics meant working with a team, and while he acknowledged those boys’ talents he knew they weren’t in shape to compete internationally, both mentally and physically. But that’s just an observation from their scores and history.
“Eh, her legs are really big”
“I hear American girls are bold”
“I like the blond”
“Ay, ay, ay she’s got pretty eyes”
They were talking about the women’s gymnastics team. Withholding an eye roll he was about to go back to reviewing his competitions movement, word had it that the Kent brothers were both going to compete Yurchenko vaults. Before he could get to that, a tablet was shoved in his face.
“Which one do you like?”
“None” was Damian's curt answer
“Aish, you barely even look. ” Damian gave his teammate an annoyed glance. looking up at his teammate who was showing him USA’s female gymnasts.
“Does it matter?”
“Just look,” and Damian did if only to make them leave him alone.
Scrolling through the pictures he was about to just pick randomly when he touched an image and the gif played across the screen.
The short video showed a girl on balance beam, three perfectly executed ariels across the length of the beam, looking as though she were floating down to the apparatus. A triple turn in her place without so much of a balance check, toes pointed, leg extended. Then a full twist into a cross straddle. All while smiling as if she wasn’t competing.
“You like that one?” He doesn’t reply, simply hands the tablet back, but silently commends her talent noting that women's gymnastics were going back to being pretty along with being strong.
He learns that she’s one of the more promising gymnasts with a more ballet style than the normal American gymnast style. An all-around competitor, like him. But other than that he doesn’t give more thought, he has a competition to win.
He wins. And it was good competition. It was neck and neck with the American and Russian gymnast, the Kents are every bit he expected but the younger one, Jonathon if he remembers right. seems to have more a head case than the older of the two.
But in the end, he’s the one with the all-around gold title.
There was a ceremony where the winners stood together on the podium with photographers taking pictures. The teams were first, then the individuals. As made Damian made his way towards the podium taking his place at the top, he met her. Both taking their respective spots at the top as all-around winners, she held her the silver cup and he held his. He meant to greet her, after all, they were both winners. But she blurted out, “you’re really tall..”
And that was true, he was tall. Very tall for a gymnast and that came with disadvantages but that was something that was noticed first by most people.
But it was then that he noticed how short she was, barely pushing 5 feet. That and her eyes.
The videos hadn’t shown, but her eyes were very very green.
“I’m sorry, you probably know that you’re tall. Congratulations!” she chirped and he was about to congratulate her back when she cuts back in “Oh gosh, do you speak English? I mean-do you understand that-uh I…” and she’s rambling and gesturing and he easily replies, “I know I’m tall” and he’s thinking he should congratulate her now, but he hears her giggle and smile at him and it’s contagious because he smiles too. “I’m Mar’i”
“Damian.”
He doesn’t get to congratulate her, the cameras start flashing and they hold up their giant cups for the photos. After what feels like hours a photographer asks “How about a kiss it’ll make a nice picture”
At first, Damian has no idea who that man is talking to until he notes that it’s directed at him and her. He shakes his head no but he feels a hand on his forearm. “I don’t mind,” she said with a shrug. And he can feel his neck heating up but against all his better judgments and strict manners, he agrees.
And it’s a moment. Where he leans down for her, and she gets on her tiptoes for a quick kiss on the cheek. A single picture. When it’s over, he finally congratulates her and she congratulates him a second time and they go separate ways.
He had the country's hopes on his shoulders, history just shy of his grasp, and here he stood in America, Madison Square Garden, walking out of the gym with an all-around cup, and medals for the pommel horse, rings, and vault. Was he content yes, but he knew that he’d get a call from his grandfather soon enough about the two silvers and bronze he had,
Despite that he allowed himself to be happy.
He was on the Olympic team, that had been a given, he was the only one who got on the podium at international competitions from his country after all. But that gave him more time. He hadn't thought much of it but he looks her up again.
And finds that she lost her spot as an all-around competitor due to an injury but would be a specialist for the balance beam for USA at the Olympics.
Either way, he wished her the best from the Arabian desert.
At the Olympics, at the age of 17, he takes the all-around gold, as expected. He doesn't get to see her. But he sees the news, the American women's team won the team gold. She won the individual gold on beam with the closest thing to a perfect score in decades.
Four years later he immigrates to America. Getting in contact with his father, to the displeasure of his grandfather and mother, and makes his decision to move to a new country at the age of 21.
In the Wayne manor, he and his father were preparing to have guests, casual guests for the first time in the four months Damian had arrived.
"They're family friends" is all the answer his father would provide.
And at noon exactly, the Graysons arrive. With two pies and a happy dog. "You must be Damian," a man with salt and pepper hair greeted him, smiling at him warmly. Dick shook the younger man's hand as his wife and daughter put down the pies on the counter and greeted Alfred.
"This is my wife, Kory" and Damian greets her,
"and my daughter, Mar'i" and when Damian came face to face with her, he had no idea what to say. And neither did she. And they just stared at one another
"Sweety?" her mother's voice brought them out of their staring contest.
With it came a slight surprised laugh, as Mar'i enveloped him a warm hug, "Small world! We met again," is what she said as she pulled away and smiled up at him.
"I couldn't agree more."
"You two know each other?" was the simultaneous question from their fathers.
"We went to the Olympics together."
Thanks for reading. -V