‘Cuddling,’ Damian muses, is a more nuanced activity than he had thought as a child. There are a staggering variety of ways to do it, but he has found his favorite. 

People are often clingy when they hug, squeezing even if they try to rein in the impulse. It could be tolerated, even enjoyed, from anyone allowed to survive the attempt, but sudden restriction of his movements and tight pressure could still bring a vague sense of unease if he wasn’t prepared.

Danny, as in most things, is different. He is more than content to nestle into Damian’s arms like he has always belonged there, simply soaking in the affection as though there’s no safer place in the world.

At the moment Danny is curled up against him, head on his shoulder as they lay on the ground somewhere in Midwestern America to stargaze. It’s not something Damian ever thought of doing in the past, but his companion makes all the difference.

Danny speaks of space with wide-eyed passion, rambling excitedly about the properties of each planet, achievements in exploration, and how this sky’s constellations vary from those in his own dimension. It’s hard to keep up at times, but his enthusiasm is infectious and endearing. It’s impossible to watch Danny’s eyes light up and not share in his wonder.

Damian’s favorite part of stargazing, however, is the stories. The night sky is a tapestry of myths and legends, and Danny seems to know them all by heart. He weaves their tales with a softer, almost reverent tone, eyes on the sky throughout. On those nights, he can hypnotize for hours.

“Antares, can I ask you something?” Danny’s gaze is fixed on the sky, as it has been for two hours now, but a subtle tension in his face betrays his nerves.

“Of course.”

Danny takes a deep breath and squeezes his eyes shut. “I want you to bite me.” 

The words come out more like a bullet than a sentence, and are just as unexpected. Surely Damian heard wrong. Surely. 

“What?”

Danny looks away, clearly mortified. “That’s my question. If you would...bite me.  I swear I can explain.” 

The mental image is admittedly captivating. Very captivating. He would make the most beautiful sounds...damn it, focus! Careful to let none of these idiotic thoughts show, Damian allows himself a raised eyebrow. “I did hear you correctly then. Why?”

Danny rolls over on his side to look at him.

“You know how I spent a few months in the Realms before I came here?” At Damian’s nod, he continues. “Well, um. I learned ghosts have a thing about scars. They’re memories, you know? We only get scars when there’s a lot of emotion involved.” He drags a hand down his face and groans. “You already know that, why am I telling you?” 

He did. It was why his Beloved still bore faint burns from his so-called parents’ weapons.

“You may tell me again, if it will help,” Damian says patiently as he rests a hand on Danny’s cheek. Danny does much of his on-the-fly thinking out loud, and this is clearly important to him.

Danny gives him a grateful look and relaxes into the touch. He takes a fortifying breath. “Right, right. Memories. And, well, most of those suck. Obviously. So ghosts will mark their best friends, their families, and…partners. Like tattoos, I guess. And...I want one from you. A memory that doesn’t hurt.”

Damian’s eyes widen in shock. They both enjoy the occasional teasing nip, but deliberate scarification is miles beyond that. The idea of irreversibly marking his Beloved, of injuring him to do so, is antithetical. He can’t.

And yet…an indisputable claim. A symbol of their bond that nothing could take away. His more possessive instincts virtually sing at the idea. He needs more information.

“...And a human can do this?”

Danny nods. “You’re liminal enough that it should work. But you wouldn’t be able to channel ectoplasm through a weapon like most ghosts do. You’d have to…bite. Maybe scratch, that might work.”

“I didn’t get to do it with my fraid before I left,” he admits. “We didn’t know about the…ritual, Dad calls it. Even if we had, everything happened so suddenly and...” Danny wilts at the unspoken memories.

“Are you certain you want my mark? It would be permanent,” Damian cautions. His Beloved can be so impulsive, after all.

“I know. I’ve thought about it for months, ever since our anniversary, and…even if Clockwork is wrong about us, even if we break up tomorrow…” Danny briefly looks pained, but he shakes it off with burning eyes. “I want to remember this.”

Damian suppresses a shiver at his conviction. The question is, does he want this? It seems a drastic act less than two years into a relationship. His rational mind wants to hesitate. 

But…

A vigilante’s life is one of constant danger. Any ordinary day might tear him away from his family, his friends, this ridiculous boy who has stolen his heart. Even if he never falls in battle, Damian is only human, only mortal. The odds of becoming a ghost upon death are high in his circumstances, but there is no guarantee. His love, with any luck, will live for centuries or more.

The pure hope shining in Danny’s eyes makes the decision for him. He cannot risk leaving him behind. “So do I,” he finally says. “How will we do this?” 

Damian is rewarded with a smile that could end wars. He can’t help but return it.

Danny sits up on his knees and braces himself with his arms, practically vibrating with anticipation. “It’s pretty simple. Dad says you just make the mark, and I…concentrate on you. How I feel.” He mumbles the last bit, embarrassed. “It’ll take a bit for the mark to settle though, so I’ll be out of it for a few minutes. Just let me come back on my own.”

Damian nods his understanding. “And where do you want it?” 

“My wrist,” Danny says with no hesitation. “I want to see it all the time. ” Oh, it isn’t fair what those words do to him. Danny knows it too, if the glint in his eyes means anything. He transforms with a grin, but it fades in favor of a blush as he presents his upturned wrist. Struck by inspiration, Damian drops to one knee as if proposing and lifts the offered wrist to his lips. Danny lets out an embarrassed meep at the gesture, as planned, but Damian isn’t done; a moment like this requires an appropriate vow.

“My eternity is yours, my love.” With that, he presses a gentle kiss against Danny’s pulse point and bites down.

Cool flesh easily parts under his teeth, and he drags thick lines lengthwise another inch or so up Danny’s arm. The electric, almost citric flavor of ectoplasm fills his mouth. It tastes…good, contrary to his expectations, and he swallows the liquid on impulse before withdrawing. For the finishing touch, Damian uses a fingernail to carve a thinner line back across the same skin in a simple, elegant flourish. It won’t do to have an identifiably human bite mark carry over to Danny’s human form, so an obscuring element will help disguise its origin. Perhaps more importantly, he has a point to make. After all, his Dove deserves only the best.

When the mark is complete, Danny gasps. He stares forward with eyes wholly consumed by green light, unresponsive. as though in a trance. A rumble of love-mine-excited-happy-LOVE radiates from him with startling strength, far beyond the rare faint impressions Damian is accustomed to from his Beloved. The ritual itself is all but forgotten as he basks in the emotions.

A ghost’s ability to project and sense emotions seemed like a glaring weakness at first. An aura cannot lie, and thus is a double-edged sword. Damian held that opinion, at least until an otherwise typical date left him stunned when he sensed Danny’s emotions. Feeling his new partner’s contentment, security, and honest affection toward him was… humbling. Addictive. 

(He’s certain it always will be.)

After nearly ten minutes, Danny’s eyes dim and he blinks dazedly at his bleeding wrist. Tears prick at the corners of his eyes, expression euphoric as he admires the wound. Though the scene is odd, knowing that he brought his partner this happiness brings Damian a rush of pride and warmth.

“Did it work?” he asks.

Danny faces him, his smile definitely beyond human limits now. “Yeah! See?” He shoves his wrist into Damian’s face once more.

Indeed, the wound looks as though it’s been healed for weeks. Raised lines stand out proudly from Danny’s skin with a faint silvery sheen. The only oddity is how wide the scar still is, as if something prevented normal human flesh from properly knitting together. 

“Beautiful,” Damian hears himself whisper as he trails a finger down the marks. And they really are; his signature, right there for all to see on this most precious of things. The knowledge sits like embers in his chest, crackling with satisfaction.

Danny preens at the comment, and Damian realizes he can still feel the echoes of love-proud-mine from his Beloved. Perhaps it’s an effect of the scarification process.

Eventually Danny clears his throat. “Normally we’d both get one. But I know you can’t have identifying things like big scars, so I got you something instead.” 

He reaches into his chest cavity and pulls out a black ribbon, carefully placing it in Damian’s hand. Closer inspection reveals the ribbon to be a silk choker, deep black and inlaid with gems that sparkle like nothing Damian has ever seen, in the exact green of Danny’s eyes. Deeper green thread connects the gems in a familiar shape: the Scorpius constellation.

“Crystallized ectoplasm,” Danny explains. “I made them from my own ‘plasm, so they have my ectosignature. Humans won’t know what it means, but ghosts and liminals will.” He gives a proud grin.

While Damian processes that, nerves rapidly encroach on Danny’s enthusiasm. His smile falls. “You don’t have to! I brought normal emeralds if that’s creepy! Unless–”

Damian hooks the choker into place, cutting off Danny’s fretting. The ribbon is exquisitely soft, flush against his neck without pressing into it. No one would be able to grab it in a fight, and the silk glides comfortingly across his skin as he turns his head. With a little focus, he can feel a faint chill from the gems.

It feels like home.

Damian finds himself fighting back watery eyes before speaking. A roughness in his voice still betrays him. 

“I will treasure it. Thank you, Dove.”

Danny still makes no attempt to hide his own tears, pressing his forehead to Damian’s and wrapping him in a hug. It’s tight this time, but eagerly reciprocated. 

“Thanks, Daylight. I love you...so much.” The words are mumbled into his neck, and he meets them with a silent kiss to the half-ghost’s forehead. As their embrace loosens, Damian feels his Beloved slump against him. It seems the ritual is taxing on ghosts, and he feels himself flagging slightly as well. Carefully, he sets Danny on the ground and settles into a spooning position. It’s a warm spring night and there’s not a soul around for miles; they can rest here for a while.

It’s not surprising when Danny starts purring. He tends to lose control of the function while dozing – one of his many endearing quirks. 

What startles them both into waking is the other purr that sounds out to answer it. 

The boys bolt upright, cutting off the quiet rumble in Damian’s throat. Neither says anything for a long moment. Then Damian sighs. “We have to tell your father, don’t we.” It’s not a question. Gods only know what this means in terms of his growing liminality, no matter the cause.

Danny falls backward again with a groan. At the same time, his aura flares with abject mortification. “Oh Ancients, we have to tell him you bit me.”

“How dreadful,” Damian snarks. “I’m the one with five siblings that already call me a vampire.”

Danny laughs. “Good point. You’re totally screwed. Remind me to stock up on garlic, bee-tee-dubs.”

Damian glares without heat. “You’re the worst, Winters.”

“Oh yeah? Do you vant to suck my bluud about it?” Danny taunts, wiggling his fingers and hissing for effect.

A deep, theatrical sigh. “Pennyworth must cease feeding you after midnight.”

From there they settle into familiar bickering, but most of Damian’s mind is on other things. Tonight was a milestone, marking a stronger bond between them, yet it also feels like nothing has changed. He can’t bring himself to fear the future like Danny does, fully convinced they will be together forever. One day Danny will truly believe their happiness will last. Perhaps not someday soon, but Damian can wait.

He touches the ribbon around his neck, feeling pure devotion radiate from the glittering gems, and smiles.

After all, we have eternity.