Work Text:
It started with Jason. Damian had just rolled out of bed, headed for the kitchen, when Jason piped up from the breakfast table.
“Baby Bat.” He greeted. Already irritating, as Damian had made it incredibly clear he hated that nickname. Damian grunted, turning to face Jason. Jason turned his tablet around, showing an incredibly enlarged picture of Robin. Robin holding a woman tightly against him. If Damian didn’t experience it himself, he might think Robin was into this woman. She was staring up at him with wide eyes and holding on tightly to his upper arms. Damian furrowed his brows. That picture was out of context. Jason raised a brow.
“Is this true?” Jason asked. Damian reeled back. How dare he assume Damian would ever do that to you? Damian glared at him.
“Obviously not,” Damian stated. Jason nodded, flipping the tablet back towards himself.
“Just had to check,” Jason grumbled. Damian didn’t appreciate that. He shouldn’t have to check; he should know. Damian would never ever in a million lifetimes cheat. And especially not on you. The fact Jason was even insinuating he’d do such a thing, and had to check just to make sure it wasn’t true, made him sick to his stomach.
As the day went on, all he could think of was how that paparazzi purposely made him look like some scoundrel. And now his face was plastered all over Gotham as a freak who picked up victims of street crime. Foul. Then his dumbass brother dared to believe it? Was his character that questionable? The cheating itself was disgusting as it was, but to think Damian would hit on someone moments after a horrific, traumatizing event for them. He could hardly stomach it. He was starting to feel guilty over something he didn’t do because clearly some part of him seemed capable of it. Which part of him?
Then after his morning workout, he headed for his bedroom to get his extra clothes for his shower. In the process, he walked in on Tim going through his sketchbook while lounging across his bed. Tim looked up when he entered the room, giving him a knowing grin.
“Do you draw anything other than your partner?” Tim mocked. Damian lunged forward, yanking it from his hold.
“Give me that,” Damian grumbled. He closed the book, pressing it to his stomach so Tim couldn’t take it from him. Tim hummed. He pressed his hands under his head, kicking back on Damian’s clean sheets. Damian glared at him. He moved towards his dresser, pausing when he saw Tim’s disgusting boots on his bed. Damian froze, feeling his heart stall.
“Get out,” Damian muttered under his breath. Tim snorted.
“Jeez, Damian, you’re a bit touchy over the drawings. They’re good. I just thought it was silly that was all you drew. Page after page, it's a bit pathetic.” Tim scoffed like Damian was the most dramatic person on the planet. Damian felt his anger seethe. He clenched his jaw, begging for the strength to keep himself moderately calm.
“Get out,” Damian repeated, his tone harder and louder. Tim paused, looking up at Damian. He nodded, pulling himself off Damian’s bed. Tim ducked out into the hall. Damian took a deep breath, closing his eyes to try and focus. He felt his anger receding. He reached out and wiped away the dirt Tim caused on his sheets. He was able to get most of it off; if it had been mud, Damian would’ve had to hide himself from his weapons. For the sake of Tim.
Damian settled onto the edge of his bed, peeling open his sketchbook. Your face stared at him as he swept through the pages, making sure Tim didn’t vandalize any of them. He froze when he saw a ripped page. The tear only went up halfway. The fuzzy edge of the paper slashed through your eye and down your cheek. It split through your smile. Your face was cut in a wavy line. It must’ve torn when he yanked it from Tim. He must’ve torn it. If he had been just a little more gentle when he took it from Tim, you would still be smiling at him perfectly. He felt tears clogging his throat and warming the back of his eyes. Damian frowned, sliding down onto his side. He pressed the sketch to his chest. He burrowed his face in his sheets as he cried. He hoped somehow when he looked back down at the sketch, your tear would be healed.
His shower was slow, like his hands were weighed down by his bad attitude. Damian really just needed everyone to not speak to him all day. He scrubbed his hair with a towel once he was done. He pulled his clean clothes on and looked up into the mirror. His eyes were still puffy, but his cheeks were dry now. He really didn’t like that he’d have to walk around all day with the evidence that he had cried. He wondered how Jon wore eyeliner during those two odd years. Especially since he was such a crybaby.
Damian swung open the bathroom door, carrying his wet towel. The second he stepped out of the bathroom, sweaty arms wrapped around his head. Damian was startled, coughing at the disgusting smell of Dick immediately after his run. Dick laughed as he pressed his armpit towards Damian’s face. Damian shot his hand out, knocking Dick in the stomach. Dick jumped back, clutching his stomach.
“Dude, I was just playing,” Dick complained, looking Damian up and down. Damian glared at him. Of course Dick would do this. Just when he got out of the shower. He just washed his hair. And he was a disgusting pervert according to the news; Tim put his nasty shoes on his feet, and your face was torn. Dick stared at Damian in shocked confusion, his mouth hanging open.
“You’re almost 40; stop acting like you’re fucking 14!” Damian shouted. Dick reeled back.
“I’m 33. I was just joking around, jeez you’re sensitive today.” Sensitive? Like when Tim invaded his personal space and went through his private drawings? That’s sensitive? Jason walked up behind Dick, interested in the fight. If he had to restrain someone, he might.
“You’re fucking disgusting.” Damian snapped. Jason furrowed his brows.
“Didn’t realize you knew those words,” Jason mumbled. Damian could throw Jason off a building.
“I’m not a baby. Quit treating me like one.” Damian glared at Jason. Dick stared at Damian’s face, finally placing what looked different.
“Whoa, everyone, settle. Have you been crying?” Dick asked, tilting his head in concern. Dick reached out, trying to pull Damian into a hug by his shoulders. Damian smacked Dick's hands away, storming down the stairs. He flung his wet towel at the nearest piece of furniture. He ignored Dick as he called out to him. He pulled his shoes on, snatched his keys, and left the house. As he reached his car’s handle, Bruce’s voice came from behind him.
“Where are you going?” He asked. Damian didn’t bother looking behind him.
“Out.” He grumbled before settling into the driver’s seat. He pulled out of the driveway and headed straight for your apartment. All he wanted to do was settle into your arms and pretend the day started with him wrapped in your bedsheets.
It had started when you found your coffee empty. Which only starts your day on a bad foot.
Then just as you were finally getting through your work, your coworker sent you an email.
Robin is flirting with girls. I think he’s getting a girlfriend soon???
You opened the article they sent you, raising a brow. You stared at the picture they had plastered over the top of the article. Robin’s hands were pressing into this woman’s back as she clung onto him. They were staring into each other’s eyes, her mouth parted. It looked like love. Lust if you were being an ass about it. But the problem was you knew who was under the mask.
Despite you knowing there was no way Damian was cheating on you, the image of his hands pressing into her flashed in your mind. Every time you tried to calm yourself down, you thought about the woman’s eyes staring wide into his. It was growing into a severe case of jealousy. Why was he all over her last night, but today he hadn’t even messaged you? You didn’t want to think about it. You tried to push it away and focus on your work. Every time you thought you were safe, someone else had to bring it up. It was all people could think about talking about. Every mutter of Robin had you pushing down your anger and clenching your teeth.
You finally settled down as you dropped into your car. The closer you got to your home, the less anger you felt. Just as you finally felt like you were in an okay mood, some douchebag in a raised truck pulled out right in front of you. You slammed on your brakes, making the car behind you honk. He blared his horn as he sped past you. What a fucking dick! What the hell is his problem? Just loud and wrong for what reason? It was your right of way. And that alone sent you straight back into your bad mood.
The final straw was that as you were opening your front door, your sweater snagged on the handle. You didn’t notice until you were a step past it and heard a loud rip. You gasped, carefully pulling the fabric from the handle. You cradled it in your hands like a wounded bird, looking at the tear. It was totally ruined. It was a knit, which meant it was dead. That thread holding it together was ripped. The hole had doubled by the time you pulled it off. You flung it at the wall, feeling your anger burn harder.
It’s ridiculous. Your coffee is empty, and it was probably Damian who used it last. He was all over some girl last night. He doesn’t message you at all.
That asshole truck pulls out in front of you, and then your favorite sweater is ruined. You flopped backwards onto the couch, resting your hands against your stomach and staring at the ceiling.
The door to your apartment opened, Damian stepping in. He glanced around the room for your face. You sat up on your elbow, looking at him over the edge of the couch.
“Did you drink all my coffee?” You asked, irritation clear. Damian scoffed.
“What?”
“Well, this morning I went to drink coffee, and it was empty. And I’m thinking you used it last and put the empty box back like a dick.” You explained, your mouth curling into a snarl. Damian glared at you.
“You’re just assuming it was me? What is your problem?” Damian snapped, slamming the door shut. You stood from the couch.
“What’s your fucking problem? You're all over girls on your patrol? You’re plastered all over the news with you pressing her all up against you! What’s that about?” You hissed. Damian snarled.
“I would never cheat! What makes you think that? Why is everyone accusing me of cheating?” He barked. You stormed past him, scoffing at his face. Damian followed after you.
“I didn’t say you cheated. I’m saying you’re a bit all over her. And if everyone is accusing you of cheating, what do you think that says about you?” You pointed your finger at his chest. Damian pulled back from you, looking you up and down.
“I’m not a cheater,” He seethed. “I bet the media didn’t tell you she leaned over and vomited all over my shoes right after that. Why are you assuming the worst about me? First this stupid coffee and now all of a sudden I’m a cheater!” Damian gestured in the direction of your coffee cabinet. You dropped your head back, rolling your eyes.
“Oh please! I didn’t call you a cheater. You’re being so-” You cut yourself off, throwing your hands up. Damian snapped his head at you.
“I’m being what? What am I being? Sensitive? Is that what you’re going to say?” Damian demanded. You scoffed, jerking your chin towards him.
“If the fucking shoe fits, Damian. You’re being a pain in the ass.” You threw your arms out to your sides. Damian pressed his lips tightly together, frowning deeply at you. You bent down, yanking your sweater from the floor. You swerved around Damian, harshly throwing the sweater into the trashcan.
“I’m being a pain in the ass? Me? Are you kidding? I just came home; you’re tearing into me about your goddamn coffee. You’re being ridiculous.” Damian said, spinning around to face you. His eyes caught on your sweater. He raised a brow, pointing at it.
“What are you doing? I bought you that.” You threw your arms up, turning your back on him.
“Who gives a shit? It’s none of your business what I do!” You yelled, storming towards the bedroom. Damian yanked the sweater from the trash can.
“Don’t throw my gifts away. It is absolutely my business what you do!” Damian fumed, chasing after you. You spun around, grabbing hold of the bedroom door.
“Go fuck yourself, Damian. I can’t fucking stand your emotionally stunted ass. You’re not a fucking baby, quit acting like one.” You hissed, slamming the door. Damian took a startled step back. He huffed.
“Fine! I’m not fucking talking to you if you’re going to be an ass!” Damian yelled. He stared at the door, waiting. Open the door. Beg for his forgiveness. Kiss his cheeks and tell him you’re so sorry and you won’t let it happen again.
“Fine! Go!” You yelled back. Damian groaned loudly, storming straight out of your apartment.
He sat in the driveway to the manor for twenty minutes. He stared at the sweater bundled up in his lap. Damian wanted to drive back to your apartment and curl in your lap. He really just wanted you to pull your fingers through his hair and tell him you love him. He sighed. He couldn’t even smell your sweater and pretend he was with you. It smelled like your trash can. And what made everything worse was that now that he was thinking back on it, he absolutely used the last of your coffee and forgot to toss it. He had made such a big stink about it with you, and it was genuinely his fault. Damian wanted to turn back time, and once you ask him, ‘Was it you?’ he can say, ‘I’m so sorry’. Instead he’s sat alone in his car, staring at the fabric of your sweater.
He thought it would be best to let you both settle down and apologize in the morning. So he tried to focus on everything else. He found the hole in your sweater. He handed it off to Alfred with many pleas that he try to fix it. Alfred promised to have it done by tonight. He was sent on patrol with Dick. The first part was tolerable. Dick tried to crack jokes, which only earned him grunts from Damian. They had to take down a whole group of muggers, which was entertaining. About halfway through, rain started pouring, soaking them both down to the bone. But it was tolerable; it at least gave him puddles to entertain himself with. Then just as Damian decided he was going to make it through this night, they hit a lull. The city went quiet; no criminal activity was found. There wasn’t even a lost kid to find the parents of. They were just going roof by roof, looking over the streets. And of course Nightwing couldn’t stand a second of silence.
“So what happened today?” He asked, flipping over onto his hands. He stood in a handstand on the edge of the rooftop. Damian glared at him, though he didn’t see it.
“Nothing.” Damian mumbled. Dick groaned.
“Don’t tell me you’re slipping back into your ‘nonchalant’ facade.” Dick pulled an arm back, balancing on just one hand.
“Do you have to do that?” Damian snapped. Dick set both his hands down, flipping back onto his feet.
“I’m entertaining myself. It’s incredibly boring tonight.” Dick grumbled. He crossed his arms over his chest, pouting like a petulant child. Damian felt an eye twitch starting to spark.
“I had a bad day,” Damian answered. Dick furrowed his brows.
“That much was obvious. What actually happened?” Dick glared at Damian. Damian really wished he didn’t like Dick as much as he did. He would’ve taken a finger by now. He wouldn’t kill him. But maiming was okay.
“Jason was a dick. Tim went through my sketchbook. You put your armpit on me. I got into a huge fight with my partner. Now I’m on patrol with you, which is how I imagine hell to look like.” Damian ranted. Dick sighed through his nose. He kicked his leg out, pointing his toes to stretch it.
“What was the fight about?” Dick asked, rolling his ankle. Damien groaned, sitting down on the edge of the roof. He stared at the cars driving down the roads.
“Everything and nothing,” Damian answered. Dick dropped his head back, letting out a loud, annoying groan.
“I can’t help you if you’re going to be vague,” Dick complained.
“Maybe I don’t want your help!” Damian snapped. He scoffed, pressing his lips into a tight line.
“Sorry.” He muttered under his breath. He wasn’t repeating it, even if Dick asked.
“Well, it helps to talk it out, you know,” Dick grumbled. Damian sighed loudly, amping up his annoyance just to irate Dick a little more.
“I drank the last of their coffee. They didn’t like that picture the media has thrown up everywhere. I said I didn’t like them calling me a cheater. They said they weren’t, but if everyone is calling me a cheater, what does that say about me? They said I was overreacting. And they threw the sweater I bought them last year in the trash. In front of me. And they said I was emotionally stunted and acting like a baby.” Damian sighed as he ranted, feeling more and more like an asshole the more he talked. Dick grimaced. He settled down next to Damian on the roof. His hand started to gently rub Damian’s back. It was tentative, like he thought Damian might swing back and bite him. The more Dick comforted him, the closer he felt to tears.
“And I accidentally tore a sketch I made of them,” Damian mumbled. His voice broke, his resolve cracking into a pathetic mess.
“And I think I messed us up as much as I messed that up.” Damian pushed out his words in a broken voice. His confession fell into sobs, his tears swarming his face. Damian fell into Dick’s arms. Dick wrapped Damian in a hug, gently rocking him back and forth. Damian held onto Dick’s back, letting himself be cradled. Damian didn’t stop the tears from flowing, just letting himself wallow in his self-pity. He let himself rock with the crashes of his sobs.
When he finally caught his breath again, Dick pulled him back. Dick cradled his face, holding onto his cheeks. He wiped at the tears trailing over the edge of his mask. He shook his head.
“Fights happen. It’s okay; it doesn’t mean it’s over. Me and Kori fight-”
“Really?” Damian whimpered. He felt embarrassment creep up behind him at his tone. He frowned and hid in Dick’s arms again.
“Oh yeah. We fight. It’s okay though, all you have to do is apologize and work to change. Especially since it’s over something small. You just have to talk, that’s all.” Dick whispered, rubbing at Damian’s shoulder. Damian paused, his eyes opening. He could get to the manor in ten. He could get to your apartment from the manor in fifteen. He could get to your window. He could beg for your forgiveness before dawn even broke. He really wasn’t sure how long he could let this fester; he needed you to be happy now. Damian pulled from Dick, wiping at his face.
“Can you manage on your own?” Damian asked, standing up. Dick scoffed at him.
“I’m friggin Nightwing, dude.” Dick raised his arms, flexing. Damian rolled his eyes, pulling at the grappling hook on his belt.
“Great. I have to take care of something tonight.” Damian took a running start off the building, swinging over the street to the next rooftop.
“You’ve got this, Baby Bat!” Dick screamed in encouragement. Damian ignored him, focusing on his way towards the manor.
Once he finally got there, he started whipping through the rooms. He yelled for Alfred every chance he got. Bruce appeared next to him. Damian jumped as he turned around.
“Hello, father.” Damian greeted, squeezing past him. Bruce followed him as Damian searched.
“You are assigned to patrol. What has happened?” Bruce asked, clearly worried at the frazzled state his son was in. Damian glanced back, giving him hardly any attention.
“I have to take care of something. I called Todd on the way over. He’s covering me.” Damian explained. He poked his head through the dining room door. Alfred stood in the dark, staring at Damian. Damian’s shoulders slumped in relief.
“Alfred. I wanted to know if the sweater was ready?” Damian asked. Alfred opened his mouth to answer.
“What sweater?” Bruce cut off. Damian stared at Alfred, begging silently that he would just answer. Alfred pulled his hands from behind his back. He was holding your sweater out towards him.
“All fixed, Master Wayne,” Alfred stated. Damian surged forward, taking the sweater from his hands.
“Thank you, Alfred. Sorry about tracking in the rain.” Damian muttered, spinning around and rushing for the front door. Bruce chased after him.
“Where are you going?” He asked, watching him in concern. Damian waved him off.
“To take care of business,” Damian grumbled as he sprinted out of the house and towards you.
Your bedroom window was attached to a fire escape. Which was something Damian was incredibly grateful for. The rain had seemed to double, making the painted metal more slippery than he liked. Your lights were off, and your curtains were closed. He hoped you weren’t asleep. He didn’t want to wake you. He shook his head, letting water droplets fly from his hair. Your sweater was soaked. He did try to cover it with his cape, but that didn’t seem to help.
Damian reached forward, knocking against the glass. He waited a minute, his heart pounding against his chest. Your light did not turn on. Damian knocked again, this time harder. No movement at all. Damian huffed, pressing his forehead to the cold glass. Please. Please. He knocked again, still pressing his head to the glass. Light flickered behind his eyelids. Damian snapped his eyes open, finding your light on. He started up, pressing his hand to your window. You pulled the curtains open, jumping at the sight of him. Your mouth fell open. You mouthed his name, making a sad smile spread on his face. You threw open the window, staring at him in shock.
“Hey,” he breathed. It was nice to see you with something on your face that wasn’t anger. You sputtered.
“What are you doing? It’s raining!” You yelled over the rush of the water droplets. Damian nodded. He brought his hand to his mouth, wiping at the rain there.
“Did you mean it?” Damian asked. His eyes were peeking out from under the mask. The green was surrounded by red. You sighed, your body slumping. You shook your head, reaching out the window for him. You held onto his cheek.
“Not a word.” You whispered. Damian sighed, leaning into your hand.
“I am so sorry. I just had a terrible day, and I blew up. You shouldn’t have to take that from me.” Damian rambled. His eyes shot around the fire escape. “ I should’ve said something. I should’ve just apologized. I started a fight, and I didn’t mean-” Your mouth against his cut him off. You were leaning out the window, holding his face against yours. Damian sighed, tossing his arm over your back. He held onto you as your pajamas started to soak through. This is what he needed. He could feel his shitty day slipping away as you moved your lips against his. He cradled you against him as he turned you, pulling you further out the window. Your legs, knee down, were in your apartment. Your back was held in Damian’s lap, his shoulders shielding you from the rain. Your thighs were getting wet, but you didn’t care. You ran your hand across his cheek, holding onto the back of his neck.
You pulled away. You didn’t slip back into your apartment; you just stared at him. You pulled at the small hairs at the base of his neck.
“I’m sorry.” You said, your eyes shining in the rain. Damian shook his head, licking his lips. He couldn’t imagine a day going by when he didn’t kiss you.
“Don’t be,” Damian stated, gazing down at you. You were stunning even against the material of his suit. He had to die before you. He wouldn’t be able to live if you weren’t there to look at him like this.
“A towel would be nice,” Damian added. You laughed, pulling yourself off his lap. You slipped into your apartment, Damian following after you.
Damian hated that he was dripping onto your floor. You grinned at him over your shoulder as you pulled a towel from your bathroom. He felt his worries fly away. He couldn’t care less about your floor; you were looking at him like he was the only person in the universe. He took the towel from your hands, rubbing it through his hair. He held out your sweater.
“Alfred fixed it,” Damian said. You looked down at it, your mouth parting. You gently took it from him, holding it in your arms as if it were pure gold. You held it up, water dripping off the bottom edge. Damian felt an embarrassed frown pull at his mouth.
“It’s wet.” You muttered. Damian nodded, spinning around towards the curtains. He yanked them closed. He turned back to you, pulling at his soaked suit.
“It’s raining.” He answered. You lifted a glare at him, running your hand over the patch where the hole used to be.
“You can’t even tell.” You whispered. Damian set his mask on your dresser, dropping his pile of a suit on the floor. He stared at you while he stood in front of you, down to just his underwear. Your hair was sticking to your face. Your pajamas were glued to your skin, but you didn’t seem to care.
“Alfred is talented,” Damian said. You pressed the sweater to your chest, looking up at him. Your face fell into a smile, your eyes watering.
“You hate it.” Damian sighed, his shoulders dropping. You shook your head, holding an arm at him. Damian tipped forward, falling into your hug. You pushed your head over his shoulder, kissing his bare skin. He wrapped his arms around your back. He tried his hardest not to cringe at the feeling of your soaked sweater pressing against him. He pressed his nose against your shoulder, so glad he was finally home.
“I love it.” You whispered.
Bruce was a little startled when Jason settled down next to him in the morning. They both had their own coffee. Bruce was reading his newspaper. Jason was scrolling through the news on his tablet. Bruce looked up when Jason gasped.
“What is it?” Bruce asked. Jason started to let out a little evil giggle.
“I’ve got to send this to Damian.” He tapped at his tablet loudly. Bruce tried to peer over his shoulder.
“What is it?" Bruce repeated.
“You’re getting FOMO, old man,” Jason grumbled, flipping the screen around. Bruce glared at him before dropping his eyes to the tablet.
A picture of Robin was blasted across the screen. He was kissing someone, sitting on a fire escape as they hung out their window. The picture was horrible quality, and Robin’s hand was pressed to their face so it wasn’t possible to identify the person. Jason swiped at the screen, showing off a new picture. The back of Robin was facing the camera now, his head hung as he stared down at his lap. Two legs were hanging from the window. It was clear as day that whoever he was kissing before was now cradled in his lap. Next to Robin was a bundled ball of fabric. One Bruce recognized.
“Is this the business he had to take care of last night?” Bruce asked. Jason shrugged, flipping his tablet back to him.
“No clue. He only told me I had to cover because he had to handle something.” Jason grumbled. Bruce pulled at his phone, opening the contacts immediately. The phone only rang twice before he picked up.
“Dick.” Bruce started. Dick sighed on the other side.
“I see you’ve read the news today,” Dick mumbled.
You rolled over in your empty bed, groaning at the absence of Damian. You stumbled out of the room, finding him in the kitchen. He was leaning against the counter, with a coffee mug next to him.
“I bought you more coffee,” Damian stated, pushing the mug closer to you. You gratefully took it. You pressed it to your lips, taking a sip. He turned his phone around, showing you a picture that was definitely you kissing him in his Robin suit.
“Quality is too poor to make out your face. I’m definitely going to be seen a certain way by Gotham.” Damian grumbled. Your eyes shot to the top of the screen. A small box holding ‘Father’ and ‘Incoming Call’ popped up. Your brows shot up, making Damian flip the phone around. He answered it, pressing it to his ear.
“Hello, Father,” Damian answered. He pulled the phone from his ear, covering the speaker with his palm. He leaned forward, pressing his lips to yours. You hummed, kissing him back. Damian pulled back, rolling his lips together to taste your coffee. He pressed the phone back to his ear.
“Of course, I’m listening, Father.” Damian scoffed.