Work Text:
Prompt: “Stay With Me A Little Longer?”
A warm hand is placed on her leg causing her to lift her eyes from her papers meeting warm green ones. She’s given a little smile, just the slightest upturn of lips, the crinkle at the corner of his eyes not visible unless you’re looking for it; the affection reflecting back through those eyes that is saved, held close, only gifted to very specific people. It makes her own lips twitch up at the thought, despite the anxiety coursing through her veins. The entire reason he had placed his hand there in the first place.
“Sorry.”
He gave the slightest inclination of his head, a small flicker in his gaze. He didn’t accept the apology, but he was acknowledging it.
She looked back down at the sketches displayed in front of her; rough markings in various shapes depicting outfits that had the potential to come off the page into elegant wear made special for whomever sought to buy them.
That is, if any of them were good enough.
She bit her lip as she fought not to bounce her leg more, finding comfort in the fact that her boyfriend didn’t lift his hand, keeping it placed there as if to say, ‘I’m here for you.’
Damian wasn’t always keen on talking, but he was more adverted to physical displays of affection. But this was ok. Concealed beneath a table, but still a small touch that didn’t cross his boundaries to let her know he loved and cared for her. It calmed her a bit from her manic, scattered mind that was convinced it had to be perfect , the warmth of his touch seeping through her tights. She smiled wider to herself. She took a deep breath in and moved aside some of the sketches until she found the one she wanted. She looked at it with new eyes and smiled, fixing up some of the lines, jotting a few notes at the side, and once she was satisfied, she nodded and put her pencil down.
“Finished?” Damian asked her softly.
She grinned and tilted her head to the right, a twinkle in her eye, “bored?”
“With you? Never.”
Her smile broadened and she giggled, shaking her head in mock exasperation, “promises promises.”
She began collecting her papers and stacking them, Damian finally removing his hand now that her leg wasn’t practicing for bungee jumping anymore, and he began aiding her. She put her pens and pencils into her pouch and zipped it up, putting everything in her bag.
Damian slid out of the booth they had been comfortably sitting in for the past hour, Marinette working on commissions while Damian sketched in his pad the people out the window and held a hand for her. She took his and he helped her up. They’re hands stayed clasped together as they exited, paying on their way out. Damian was sure to leave a generous tip.
“Stay with me a little longer?” she asked, tilting her head in question. She wasn’t sure if he had other plans after this.
“Of course, I have nothing else to do,” he responded as if reading her mind.
She smiled and enjoyed the evening breeze as they walked together down the street.
“My love?” Damian spoke after a short period of silence lingered between.
Marinette turned, having to look up slightly to see her partner's face, “yes?”
“Would you…” he hesitated, swallowing with a cringe as if whatever was about to leave his lips physically pained him to have to say. Marinette’s heart dropped as her mind ran through exactly what he could ask. Before she could divulge into that path too much though Damian continued, “Would you care to join me for dinner tomorrow night? With… with my family?”
Marinette blinked. Once. Twice. Three times.
“That’s it?”
Damian looked at her, confusion pulling at his brow, “yes?”
A smile stretched across her face as she huffed a laugh, shaking her head, “I thought it was going to be a lot worse with how you swallowed your tongue.”
“I don’t swallow my tongue. ”
“Sure, you don’t,” she bumped their hips together and he rolled his eyes good naturedly, “I would be delighted to join you for dinner tomorrow.”
He looked down on her and oh… if she dared voice her thoughts, he would vehemently disagree but the only word she could ever use to describe the way he looked at her was soft .
He looked at her with such a tender love, she wasn’t quite sure what to do with that.
“Will you marry me, Damian Wayne?”
Now, Damian often prided himself on being unsurprisable. He was stable, clear-headed, unflappable. So Marinette promptly burst out laughing when he stopped in his path, jaw dropping, and looking so uncharacteristically… well, Damian.
He shook his head and his eyebrows creased together in confusion, but his mouth was forming into such a pure and genuine smile.
“Aren’t I the one supposed to ask that?”
“New day and age, Damian. Try and keep up.”
He shook his head, stepping back and pulling her with him slightly into the alleyway. It was still light outside, the sun just dipping down into the horizon. They weren’t in Gotham, they were in Paris, so the streets were clean, and the trees were full bloom and the sun shone in that way that seemed to make even the darkest of corners seem hopeful. It was beautiful. The way it glimmered in Damian’s eyes a reflection to her own.
“We should do this properly,” he told her gently, both of her hands held within her own, bringing them both up and kissing the back of each gently. Left than right.
She sucked in a breath harshly through her nose as red dusted her cheeks but nodded in agreement, “yeah. Yeah, we probably should.”
She pulled her hands out of his, one hand slipping into her pocket as she got down onto one knee, watching slightly amused as Damian’s eyes widened further.
“Damian Wayne,” she pulled out a small black box, “you mean more than the world to me, and I want to spend the rest of my life by your side,” she opened the box revealing a simplistic silver ring, “so would you do me the great honour of marrying me?”
He pulled her up and pressed his lips to hers. Tender, loving, full of passion and hope and joy and everything perfect in the world.
“There is nothing else in the world that I’d want.”
“Walk me home?” She whispered against his lips, hands around his neck, a sappy smile on her face.
“It would be my pleasure.”