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Jab, jab, cross. Repeat. Damian kept himself low and concentration on the heavy bag despite it not being an actual live object. He continued punching the bag until the moment he felt someone staring at him. At the last punch, the heavy bag flew across the room and landed on the ground with a dull thud. Unwrapping the bandages on his hands, he glanced at the intruder, “TT, are you here just to stare?”
She tilted her head while a playful smile tugged at her lips, “I certainly don’t mind. It’s a nice view.”
Damian narrowed his eyes in a warning which she retaliated with a giggle. At the sound, his heart felt like it was tickled while his mind was cleansed of anything but the memory of Kent’s farmhouse. The breeze caressed his cheeks and the smell of dew was so fresh that he felt like he was tasting them instead of breathing them in. Even though he was used to dark Gotham, he would not mind the countryside with the sun warming his skin which contrasted the cooling air in the morning.
The giggle she let out broke the silence; but the way she did was like melody seeping into a song and Damian waited for what she would be saying next. He watched her exhaled into her palm while she watched with awe at the air swirling like smoke before disappearing. The awe on her face was colouring her skin a beautiful palette and the air in his lungs felt like it was sucked out. To be more precise, it was like the air around and in him was seduced into joining the misty art she was making. Another giggle and Damian could not help the blush from colouring his skin.
“So are you ready?” He blinked a couple of times to realise he was back in the training room instead of Kent’s farmhouse. She was geared with her sword so Damian replaced the bandages for his katana before taking a stance in front of her.
Leaping at each other after a few beats of silence, the sound of metals meeting and biting into the other filled the room. Damian stepped back and jumped sideways; his mind weaving together a plan before falling apart to transform to another whole plan with every movement made by her. Despite it being a fight, she fought with the utmost of grace that he started to second guess whether it was a dance instead.
His downfall, literally, answered his question because the numb pain spiking up his back was certainly not part of any choreography. Pointing her sword at his throat, she smirked, “You lost concentration and faltered.”
He grunted, pushing the sword away and accepting the hand she offered. When he has stood up, it felt like a petal was brushing his cheeks before the words of thank you echoed in his ears. Shell-shocked, he watched with brazen amazement as she walked out of the training room.
She kissed him?