⟢| caught (req)

── ⋆⋅𖤓⋅⋆ ──

Never in a million years did anyone in Wayne Manor think they would see the day that Damian Wayne went soft.

or, more accurately, the day he fell in love.

Damian himself would have scoffed at the idea not long ago. Emotions had never been something he handled well. He knew that. Years of training under the League of Assassins had taught him discipline, efficiency, and ruthlessness, not tenderness. Not vulnerability. He was an assassin. He was Robin. Feelings were messy, unpredictable things that had no place in the life he’d been raised for.

And yet... here he was.

What baffled him most was you.

Damian truly couldn’t understand how you managed to look at him and see anything worth loving. Surely you saw the sharp edges, the arrogance, the anger he struggled to keep contained. Surely you noticed the darkness that followed him like a shadow. But somehow, none of that seemed to matter to you.

Instead, you stayed.

Worse, he found himself wanting you around.

More and more of his time seemed to revolve around you lately. At first it had been small things. Innocent things. Sitting together in the library while you both read in comfortable silence, occasionally trading quiet remarks about whatever book you were buried in. Sometimes you’d end up outside with Titus, the enormous dog happily trotting between the two of you while Damian pretended he wasn’t watching the way you laughed.

Those moments had started to add up.

And eventually... he stopped pretending he didn’t like them.

Unfortunately for everyone else in the manor, Damian Wayne had never been particularly good at restraint.

Which was exactly why you were currently seated on his lap in the theater room.

The lights were dim, some movie playing quietly in the background that neither of you had paid attention to for the last fifteen minutes. Damian’s hands rested firmly at your waist, keeping you comfortably pinned against him as you kissed him.

Soft, quiet groans escaped him between breaths, sounds that would have shocked just about anyone who knew the usually stoic Robin.

He barely noticed.

For once, Damian wasn’t thinking about patrol schedules, training, or expectations. He wasn’t thinking about the League or his past or the endless pressure of being a Wayne.

He was only thinking about you.

And in his mind, this moment was perfect.

He didn’t care who saw.

Unfortunately, fate, and the rest of the Batfamily, rarely allowed Damian Wayne to have nice things.

The theater room door suddenly swung open.

A horrified shriek cut through the quiet.

“GROSS!”

Damian froze for half a second.

That voice sounded exactly like Drake.

Slowly, and with visible irritation, Damian lifted his head and peered over your shoulder toward the doorway. His arms tightened slightly around you, making sure you stayed right where you were on his lap. If Drake thought Damian was about to move because of him, he was sorely mistaken.

Standing in the doorway were Tim and Stephanie.

Both staring.

Tim looked like he had just walked in on a crime scene.

Stephanie looked somewhere between shocked and deeply, deeply disgusted.

“Get a room, you two!” Stephanie huffed, throwing her hands up in exasperation.

Though, considering you quite literally had a room upstairs, she didn’t seem interested in continuing that argument.

Damian sucked his teeth in annoyance.

“Must you two ruin everything?” he said flatly.

His attention quickly shifted back to you, however.

Your face was flushed bright red now, clearly mortified by the sudden audience.

The sight softened his expression, just a little.

One hand lifted from your waist to gently pat your hip in quiet apology.

Not that he had any intention of letting you go.