Chapter Text
“Does this look better? Or this?”
“Both do.”
“Damian. . .”
“Well, if you want my honest answer. I think you would look absolutely ravishing with nothing on right now.” He brushed her hair to one side and leaned in, dipping his face in between the curvature of her neck, inhaling her sweet scent. He leaves a trail of pecks. “Nothing but that pretty pink blush.”
“Damian.” Raven tried being serious, she really tried but a soft giggle escaped as he kissed that perfect spot. “Damian, please.”
“Please, what, aziza? Hm?”
Raven shook him off and walked back to her closet. She sighs, pulls her hair up with a claw clip and turns back at him. Damian is staring back at her in nothing but his pants. Shirtless, small scars littered across his defined chest and abdomen. Her lip caught between her teeth. Any other night, she would have gladly indulged in his little ploy, especially with the hunger in his eyes, but tonight, she simply raised a brow and pulled out another dress.
It’s a short black dress. Simple. Satin.
“What about this one?”
“Come here.”
“Damian, please. We have to leave in one hour and I still have to do my makeup.” She tells him almost exasperatedly, still in her loungewear.
“It's just my father.” Damian rolled his eyes and stalked over to her. He towers a full foot over her. Payback for when she used to tease him for being shorter than her when they first met. He pulled her close, resting his chin atop her head. He can smell a hint of her lavender shampoo from her freshly blown dried hair.
“Exactly." She said. She looks up at him with worry in her amethyst eyes.
“You’ve met my father before.” Damian cupped her cheeks, trying to ease her nerves.
“Yeah, as Batman!”
“And as Bruce Wayne.” He raises a brow.
“That was before. . .” Raven cringed.
That was before Jon accidentally ran his big mouth after coming back home from sneaking and just started spilling secrets to Clark, in order to get out of trouble. It hadn't worked. Later that week after one of their meetings, Clark,of course, shared it with Bruce. But, he was just asking out of genuine curiosity how long had Damian been seeing his former teammate. Bruce, ‘World’s Greatest Detective’, Wayne had no idea what the Kryptonian was even talking about. Thus leading to a late night phone call with his son (interrogating him.) Asking how long has this been going on?
Two years.
Why hasn't he told anyone?
Why would he announce it?
So, then how does Jon know?
Because, he's nosey little bi-
Are they serious about each other?
Yes. Obviously.
Have they started having. . . ?
Damian doesn't think that's any of his business.
Why didn't Damian tell him anything?
Again, why would he need to?
And, when is Bruce going to meet her?
Tt.
Which leads us to today. They're set to go to Gotham for a proper evening dinner. Just the two of them. And Bruce.
Raven has never done anything like this. She’d had a few things here and there before Damian with strangers, civilians, and casual encounters but nothing serious. But, nothing like this. All those guys were just flings or one night stands.You get it. Never anything serious. Until, it was suddenly with Damian. Then it became very serious. Very real.
She just never saw herself as someone that would get serious enough to have ‘meet the parents' dinner. Except it wasn’t just any parent. It was Bruce Wayne. Multi-billionaire. CEO of Wayne Enterprises. Philanthropist. And, of course, fucking Batman. Leader of the Justice League.
The thought made her stomach twist. The last thing she wanted was to have him see her as someone that was beguiling his youngest son. Keeping him hidden all to herself.
Their relationship wasn't necessarily a secret. They just didn't parade it around in everyone's faces. Almost everyone knew that they've been together for a little over two years. Jon had been the first to know, by accident, walking in on them kissing after patrol. After that, Damian had quickly gone from careful to vocal about his intent to court her. Dick had been next to find out, naturally, and slowly everyone else had followed.
All except his father. They weren't deliberately hiding anything, it just never came up and both were very professional when it came to missions. If his father didn’t take notice of their secret glances and lingering touches, that is no one's fault but his own.
“He likes you.” Damian hummed.
“You don't know that.”
“Does it matter if he doesn't?” He lowered his hands at her waist, rubbing circles with his thumbs. “Considering his track record he has no room to-”
“It matters to you. I know it does.” Raven tells him. She reached up and pushed some strands of his hair back into place.
He sighs, “I know he'll like you. You’re a strong fighter. Powerful. And you've always collaborated well on joint missions. Not to mention-”
“But that's me as meta. A Titan. Not as his son’s girlfriend. Which by the way you said that he knew about. I thought-” Raven lowered her hands to his chest.
“I said I thought he knew about us. I assumed he knew, considering I kept bringing you home a few times when I visited.”
“That was when we were just friends, Damian.”
“Still, I never brought anyone else home. You would think that with his detective skills, he would’ve made some sort of connection with how I felt about you, even then.” He leaned down, eyes softening, moving closer for a kiss.
Raven held up a hand, stopping him. “Which dress?”
“The black one. With the tights.” He smirked. “Please?”
+
They arrived ten minutes early, thanks to Raven’s portal. She brushed off her dress as a crisp breeze nipped at them. The sky was a deep indigo, stars scattered above like pinpricks of silver. The manor loomed ahead, towering in shadow, though a few warm lights glowed through curtained windows. On one sill, the silhouette of a cat sat perched, tail curled neatly around itself, just watching.
She had worn the black dress. It's a simple design, a high neckline accompanied by her necklace. A gift from Damian. It paired well with her dangling earrings. Also a gift from Damian.
She had followed his suggestion and worn sheer tights, anticipating the chill. Damian was dressed simply, in slacks and a plain black turtleneck, looking effortlessly composed.
“At least my father is sealed away so you'll never have to meet him like this.”
“You’re forgetting I already did. Twice.” Damian reached for her hand.
“You know what I mean.” She intertwines their fingers.
“You look beautiful, habibti.” He smiled at her. “I can't wait to take this off of you later.”
“Damian.” Raven rolled her eyes. She’s grateful that he's trying to ease her nerves.
His presence beside her was steady, calm almost unnervingly so. With a light tug, he led her along the path toward the manor.
They've reached the entrance and Raven takes a final deep breath before one of the doors swings open to reveal Alfred, standing there inside the threshold.
“Master Damian, good evening.” Alfred stepped aside to allow them to pass, his eyes flickering to their hands. “Miss Raven, welcome back.”
Titus sat patiently with Alfred by the door, tail wagging slowly.
Raven gave a small nod, offering her most composed smile as she followed Damian inside. The warmth of the manor washed over them, a stark contrast to the chill outside, and the quiet hum of the house seemed to settle some of her nerves.
“Titus, behave,” Damian muttered under his breath as the massive dog nudged Raven’s leg, seeking attention.
Raven’s expression softened instantly. She knelt to pet him, fingers sinking into his thick shiny fur, and murmured quiet praise. His tail thumped against the polished floor, a steady rhythm of happiness. She had missed him dearly.
“How'd you know we were outside?” Damian asked. “Were you waiting for us?”
“Of course.” Was the only reply he got to that. “Come now, dinner is ready and your father has just came down.”
“Come, beloved.” He leads with quiet assurance, footsteps soft against the polish wooden floors. She gives Titus one final pet. The long dining table at the center of the room and the silver cutlery gleamed under the chandelier’s light. Some dishes were already plated.
His father was already at the head of the table, phone in hand. The soft glow of the screen lit the sharp angles of his face. A few strands of gray hair had slipped out of place, catching the light. Most of the silver had gathered at his temples, dignified streaks against the otherwise full, dark thickness of his hair.
Damian had noted it a few years back with an odd sense of relief, even gratitude. If genetics were kind, he wouldn’t have to worry about premature baldness.
Bruce’s brow furrowed as he focused on the screen, his eyes narrowing slightly. The expression deepened the faint crow’s feet at their corners, subtle lines carved by years of late nights, constant vigilance, and burdens few men could shoulder.
“Father.” Damian greeted.
“Damian.” Bruce put his phone away and then turned his gaze to Raven. “Raven. Welcome. Thank you for coming.” He extended his hand.
“Thank you for inviting us.” She took it, relief slowly flowing through her at the firm, polite handshake.
Damian pulled out her chair, and Raven leaned over to give him a quick peck on the cheek before she lowering herself in it. He sits right next to her. In between her and his father
“I've made a mushroom risotto. I hope it's to your liking.” Alfred quietly comments
“It smells amazing.” Raven replied, smiling at him.
Alfred returns a small one before escaping back into the kitchen.
It was quiet at first. All that could be heard was the cutlery against the plates. Bruce’s presence was heavy. It made Raven feel tense. She wasn't sure whether to speak first. This was so much easier when they were younger, visiting simply as just a friend.
“So,” Bruce thankfully broke the silence. “Do you still enjoy reading, Raven?”
His tone is neutral and she doesn't feel any emotion coming from him.
“Very much so.”
“We have an impressive collection here at the manor.”
“She’s been here already, Father. She knows where the library-” Damain cuts in. He sat with perfect posture but a tight jaw.
“Have there been any new additions?” Raven interrupts him.
“Yes, a few.” Bruce comments.
“I’d be happy to see them.”
“Excellent. I do hope that-”
“It smells so good here! Hey, Alf, what'd you make?” A voice echoes from the other room.
Raven doesn't recognize the voice right away but Damian does. He looked to his father.
“I didn't know he was visiting today.” Bruce reasoned.
“Of all the days.”
“Smells really good! What's for. . . Oh. . . Hello.” Tim fucking Drake.
Damian's jaw tightens and his shoulders stiffen. He glanced at Raven, whose head is turned in the direction of the voice. She’s not startled at the new company. She's assessing the situation.
Tim strides in with his button up all wrinkled, sleeves rolled up hastily, tie is long gone and he had a couple of pen marks on his hands. His hair was mussed as if he's been running his hands through it all day, it accompanied his sleep deprived eyes. Every single inch of him radiated exhaustion, but that quickly went away when he weighed in on the scene set in front of him. His eyes suddenly sparkled as glanced between Damian and Raven and then Bruce. And then right back to Damian and Raven.
Their father rested his elbows on the polished table, fingers interlaced, he brought the tips of his fingers together, forming a subtle peak just beneath his nose, above his mouth.
“Well, isn't this a lovely sight?” Tim gives them a lopsided smile.
He marches over to the young couple, taking Raven’s hand in a clasp. “Raven, always good to see you.”
He moves to Damian and ruffles the younger Robin’s hair, “Demon Brat.” To which Damian smacks his hand away.
And greets their father, “Hey, boss.”
“What the hell are you doing here, Drake?”
“Damian.” Both Raven and his father reprimand.
“Well, I was actually on my way home after a long day of helping B here run the company - something you, you know, should also be helping with,” Tim said, serving himself a plate, piling it high with risotto and roasted vegetables.
“I was thinking to myself, ‘Boy, am I starving,’ and proceeded to finish the last of my coffee while debating whether I should order takeout and wallow in my own misery. . . or stop by the good ol’ manor and see what Alfred cooked up.”
He poured himself a glass of wine and settled into his seat across from Damian and next to Bruce. “And to my surprise… I’m greeted by this lovely sight. So glad I decided to stop by.”
“Please tell me this isn't your first meal of the day.” Their father bemoaned.
“You didn't tell me that my little baby demon brother would be in town.” Tim tells with his mouth full. Damian grimaces and almost brings his hand up to flip him off. Raven, sensing that, stops him by placing her hand on top of his. “And he brought his girlfriend which I’m assuming now you know about.”
“You knew?” Bruce raises a brow.
“Of course. It was obvious from the start. Plus, you know Dick, that man loves to gossip.” Tim shoves more food in his mouth. He pulled out his phone.
“No phones at the dinner table.”
“Of course, B.” Tim smirks. “Just gotta send a quick text. You know, work stuff.”
He pockets his phone. “So, what were we talking about? Finally decided to introduce your girlfriend to the big man, little D?”
“Fuck you.”
“Damian.” Again, both his father and his love reprimand him.
Tim hadn't finished his first plate but he reaches over to serve himself more. “Rae, how's Demon Brat been treating you?”
“He’s manageable.” She says evenly, there's a faint smirk at the corner of her lips. “Can't say the same about your hair.”
Tim places his fork down and gestures broadly to himself, “It's called hard work, sweetheart. Not all of us have rich boyfriends that would buy me a necklace that probably costs a mortgage.”
Tim nods as he speaks.
“True.” Raven nodded in acknowledgement as she played along. She concedes her mock with solemnity. “But, at least I have a boyfriend.”
“Ouch.” He’s still nodding. This time much more pitifully.
“Raven,” Bruce clears his throat, steering the conversation back. “What has been your favorite piece so far?”
“I've been joining something Constantine has lent me, but I also very much enjoy the classics. There’s Dostoevsky, Brontë. . .” She lists off a few.
Bruce nods slowly, studying her with a quiet interest. “Have you read Tolstoy? Anna Karenina, perhaps. Or War and Peace.”
Raven’s expression softens. “Yes. He has a way of writing that feels immersive.”
Bruce’s eyes narrow faintly, intrigued. “Then you might find Hugo worth your time. Have you read Les Misérables?”
“We saw the film together just last week.” Damian ed in, his tone is calm. He pushed around some of the risotto with his spoon.
Raven’s lips curve ever so slightly glancing at Bruce. “He complained throughout the entire musical number.”
Damian scowled, not looking up from his plate.. “It was unnecessarily long. I enjoyed the novel better.”
Tim lets out a long dramatic yawn.
Bruce’s gaze lingers on the two of them, silent for a beat. Then, in his steady, calculated voice, he shifts.
“So. How long have the two of you been together?”
Damian stiffens, shoulders squaring instinctively. “Father, I already-” Eyebrows furrowed.
“Long enough for him to sit through a three-hour French tragedy for me.” Raven took a sip of her drink. “A little over two years.”
“I'm sure you're aware I just found out about this.”
“He had me under the impression that you were already aware.” Raven picks up her fork again.
“As I've said, I figured with Grayson always running things by you, you should have known.”
Bruce leans back slightly, his expression unreadable. “Your brother tells me most things. But not this.” His eyes flick to Damian. “You kept it quiet deliberately.”
Damian’s jaw tightened. “We did not, it was just none of anyone’s business.”
Raven’s voice cuts through the tension, calm and even. “It was not intentional. We apologize.”
“Hn,” Bruce studies her for a long moment, then nods once.
Raven’s gaze returned to her food, though there’s a faint warmth behind it. Damian relaxes almost imperceptibly beside her, though he tries to mask it by reaching for his glass.
“Well, looks like you’re officially part of the family. My deepest condolences.” Tim smirks, leaning back in his chair.
Bruce’s gaze softens as he returns back to Raven. “Please, have Damian visit us more often. Accompanied by you, of course.”
“Tt.” Damian rolls his eyes. “I’m here more than I shou-”
He’s cut off by a loud rumble of a motorcycle outside, followed by a sudden clatter at the entrance.
“Good evening! How’s my beautiful and wonderful family!” A booming voice makes an appearance.
Jason steps into the room, boots thudding on the floor, leather jacket hanging casually over one shoulder. His grin is wide, unapologetically loud, and completely in contrast to the calm dinner table.
“Jay! Glad you made it!” Tim smiles.
“Work stuff?” Bruce raises a brow at his middle child, referring to the phone earlier.
“Oh my, baby bird, I wasn't aware you would be here!” Jason feigns wide-eyed surprise.
“Fuck you.”
“Damian.”
“What the fuck are you doing here?”
“Damian.”
Tim laughs. “I thought our brother would enjoy some of this amazing risotto. Jay, grab a plate! It's to die for.”
Jason marched to Raven with exaggerated purpose. He takes her hand and presses a light playful kiss on her knuckles. “Raven, a pleasure as always.”
Raven glances at him, expression unreadable, though the faintest twitch at her mouth betrays her amusement. Damian’s eyes narrow at the gesture. He shifts slightly in his seat.
“Did you know about this too?” Bruce asks, his tone calm but probing, eyes flicking to the young couple in front of him.
Jason raised his eyebrows, in genuine surprise. “You didn’t?”
Bruce just grunts and proceeds to finish the rest of the risotto. “Sit down.”
“So,” Tim pushes away his finished plate. “When are you meeting her father, Demon Brat?”
“He’s not meeting my father.” Raven says firmly.
“He's not meeting her father.” Bruce says, glancing away form the couple.
“I've already met her father.”
For a beat, all three speak over each other, and the room goes silent.
Bruce freezes mid-bite, eyebrows raising. “What?”
Damian’s sarcasm drips like venom. “Lovely guy.”
Jason knew he wasn't serious but he was clearly amused. He served himself a huge pile of food. “Really?”
“Yes,” Damian continues. “Practically was begging me to call him ‘Dad.’”
Bruce took a deep breath knowing that it was probably inevitable for that to happen, knowing that Raven didn't start off with having good control at keeping her father at bay.
“How has it been working with Constantine and Zatanna, Raven?” Bruce shifts the conversation to another topic.
“Good. They’ve shown me a lot. I feel much more in control of my powers.”
Improvement. He's aware that she's improved a lot. That's good.
Bruce’s eyes flick between them, a small, approving glimmer in his gaze. “Good to know, I'm glad. And you, Damian? Making sure she feels comfortable?”
Before Damian could answer, Tim leans in with Jason at his side.
“You don’t see the earrings she’s wearing that could literally be someone's rent. I think he's treating her just fine.”
“Not that it should matter to you, but I’m not with him for the money.” Raven’s voice is even. “It's just a perk. Jealousy isn't a good color on you, Tim.”
“Anyways.” Tim rolls his eyes. “You have to ask the juicy questions, B. Who confessed to who first?”
“None of your damn-”
“It was Damian.”
“Really?” Both his brothers and his own father exclaimed in unison, bewilderment etched on their faces.
Jason lets out a low whistle. “Can't say I'm shocked though, he would crack eventually, with all that pining he's done over the years. You should've seen it, Rae, it was pathetic.”
Tim clutches his chest dramatically. “I’m almost proud. Almost. Was he romantic about it?”
“Did he recite poetry? He looks like the type.” Jason adds with that stupid smile on his stupid face.
Damian’s glare could cut through steel. “If either of you value your lives, you’ll drop it.”
“I’m betting roses,” Tim says, nudging Jason.
“Nah, rooftop under the moonlight. He’s old fashioned,” Jason fires back.
“No, he probably-”
“Both of you shut-”
Bruce leaned back in his chair, the corner of his mouth tugging upward. “If he takes after me, it was probably awkward, blunt, and far less impressive than he thinks it was.”
“Father-”
“Something like that.” Raven adds with a tiny smile. She gives Damian’s hand a gentle squeeze under the table. “But, I thought it was sweet.”
“Beloved,” Damian turns to her, looking almost betrayed.
“Beloved?” Jason barks out a laugh, only to nearly miss the knife that whizzes past him and buries itself in the wall behind his chair. “Fuck!”
“Alright, enough.” Bruce's booming voice cuts through the room. “We don't throw weapons at the dinner table.”
“Would now be a good time to introduce dessert?” Alfred inquires smoothly as he enters from the kitchen.
“Please.” Damian muttered, resisting the urge to bang his head against the table.
“I've made your favorite, Miss Raven. Chocolate lava cake.”
“Thank you, Alfred. It looks incredible.” Raven rises from her seat and begins clearing the table to make room for the dessert, to help him. She gathered a neat stack of plates, pausing to take Damian’s as well.
Before she can carry them away, Damian pushes back his chair and joins her, wordlessly reaching for the rest and then carries them to the kitchen.
Bruce arches a brow at the sight, while Jason and Tim exchange playful looks, barely stifling their snickers of amusement.
“What about ours?” Jason calls after him.
“Fuck off,” Damian scoffs. He wants to throw a few plates at their heads. Alfred, unbothered, begins serving dessert, moving with his usual grace as he places each dish.
“Has he always done that?” Bruce decides to be the one to ask.
“Yes.” Raven hums, settling back in her seat. “He was always the one that would help me in cleaning up at the Tower.”
The head of the house gave a subtle nod in response. Damian returned to the table, expression carefully neutral, though his brothers’ grins betrayed they were just waiting to pounce.
“Did you tell Alfred about this dessert?” Raven tries to whisper to him but it's so quiet that everyone pretty much hears anyways.
“Of course, my love.”
“This is for me?” Tim pitched his voice high, pointing at the lava cake with his spoon. He flutters his eyelashes.
Jason leaned into him, dropping his tone into an exaggerated baritone. “Yes, my beloved. I made certain it was crafted from the finest cacao beans, blended with the purest sugar, and baked at precisely four hundred and twenty degrees. . . for exactly thirteen minutes and-”
He didn’t get to finish. Jason flinched, ducking behind one of the empty plates, using it as a shield when Damian reached for a fork.
Bruce’s hand shot out, catching his son’s wrist mid-motion. Jason flips him off, peeking over the plate.
Raven dipped her spoon into the cake, the molten chocolate spilling out in a rich, gooey stream.
“Alfred, you’ve outdone yourself,” Bruce remarked.
“Thank you, sir.”
“So,” Bruce said evenly, “have you both thought about a future together?”
Damian froze mid-bite. “Don’t you think it’s a little too soon to be talking about that?”
With you nonetheless. At the dinner table.
-
Tim and Jason busied themselves with their own conversation. They had lingered at the table to push their little brother’s buttons, but even they knew this topic was a little too personal to keep poking at.
Tim leaned toward Jason, lowering his voice just enough. “So today’s board meeting? Three fucking hours of arguing over absolutely nothing. I swear Iwas ready to throw myself off the roof.”
Jason snorted into his glass. Glad he's not in the family business. He continues to listen.
-
“Well,” Bruce countered, tone calm but pointed, “considering the fact that you’ve been together for two years, Damian, if you’re serious about this as you have told me, I’d say this is the perfect time to be having that conversation.”
Damian’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t look away from his father. “I am serious. More serious than I’ve ever been about anything.”
Raven’s cheeks warmed, and she quickly lowered her gaze.
“So then,” Bruce pressed again, his voice steady, “have you thought about a future together?”
“Every day,” Damian said without hesitation.
Raven’s head lifted at that, eyes widening slightly. For a moment, the table and all its noise seemed to disappear, the weight of his words settling between them. She opened her mouth to respond, but found herself speechless.
Damian straightened in his chair, shoulders squared, the smallest flicker of defensiveness in his eyes. “I’m not careless, Father. I wouldn’t waste her time, if I wasn’t certain.”
Bruce studied him for a long moment, his sharp gaze softening almost imperceptibly. “Son, I’m not trying to pry. I only ask because I care.”
The words lingered heavier than Damian expected. His lips pressed into a thin line, as if weighing the risk of saying more. Finally, he answered, quieter but no less resolute. “We haven’t necessarily talked a lot about what we want to do, I just know I want to be with her. I’ll be at her side as long as she’ll let me.”
Jason let out a low whistle, and Damian snapped his head in their direction, glare sharp enough to cut glass. Jason merely shrugged and went back to their conversation.
-
“So, I'm bashing the guy’s face in-”
“Oh god.”
-
“You want to know if we’ll go public about this one day, right?” Raven spoke up, her voice soft but steady.
Bruce glanced at her, eyes lingering for just a beat, then inclined his head ever so slightly.
“You know,” Tim interjected, loudly as he stood up, “I think Alfred might need some help in the kitchen with the dirty dishes. Let’s go, Jay.”
Jason gave a mock-salute and followed, leaving the table quieter, the weight of the moment returning to just the three of them.
-
“Holy shit.” Tim whispered.
-
“I don’t want to pressure you into doing something you don’t want to do. . . either of you,” Bruce said, sighing as he considered his next words. “But you are, publicly, Damian Wayne: heir to Wayne Enterprises. You’ve always presented yourself as someone serious and calculated. The complete opposite of what I was. That's how the public sees you. So, if-”
“We haven’t had any problems with the press,” Damian replied, jaw tight. “No pictures. I won’t let those vultures pick her apart. Most of don't even know me at Jump City.”
“You know that’s not what I mean,” Bruce said, his voice calm but firm.
Raven squeezed Damian’s hand under the table, a quiet anchor amid the tension.
“I understand that Damian has a public image to keep up,” she said steadily. “I knew what I was stepping into when we got together. I knew that eventually, if we were seen together out in public, the media would run with it. I knew about the double life we would be living, especially since we work together most times. And when the time comes…” her eyes softened, turning toward Damian, “…I’ll face it. With him.”
Bruce studied her for a moment, his sharp gaze searching.
“Then you’ll both need to be ready,” Bruce said at last. “The spotlight can be cruel. And it's different when it's put on someone you care about.”
He looks directly at Damian. “I would know. I had to put all my kids in it.”
Damian’s usual sharp retort didn’t come. His lips pressed into a hard line, but his eyes flickered with something rare. Understanding. He didn’t like admitting it, but his father was right. He remembers how they treated him, the microscope he was under at just ten years old.
Raven glanced between them, sensing the unspoken weight of his words. Her thumb brushed against Damian’s hand under the table.”
Bruce’s expression softened. “But you’ve handled every challenge thrown your way. I don’t doubt you’ll handle this one too.”
Damian nodded, a small, reluctant smile tugging at his lips. “Thank you.”
“Now,” Bruce said, turning his attention to Raven, “how about I show you the new additions to the library?”
He rose from his chair, extending a hand toward her. Raven hesitated for only a second before slipping her hand into his, letting him escort her from the dining room.
Damian’s gaze followed them until they disappeared from sight. His jaw shifted, a quiet flicker of jealousy passing over his features. With a sharp exhale, he gathered the plates from the table.
“Tt.”
+
“So he held my hand the entire way. I dropped him off, and. . . nothing.”
“No kiss?”
“Just a hug and an ‘I’ll text you tomorrow.’ Like, what the fuck?”
Jason snorted, leaning back in his chair. “But did you try to kiss him?”
“I mean. . . I could’ve. . .” Tim muttered, trying for nonchalance.
Jason arched a brow, giving him a pointed look.
Tim groaned. “I got nervous, okay?”
Jason let out a laugh, shaking his head. “You? Tim Drake, Gotham’s boy genius struck dumb by a goodnight kiss?”
Tim glared. “It’s different, alright? He’s-” He stopped himself, realizing Jason’s smirk was only growing. “Forget it.”
Before Jason could pounce, the doors opened. Damian stepped in with the plates, carrying them to the sink. He turned on the water and rolled up his sleeves with practiced precision.
“Baby brother!” Jason clapped a heavy hand on his shoulder. “Where’s Rae?”
“Father is showing her some new collection he acquired for the library.”
Jason’s eyes gleamed. “Ohhh. A little one-on-one”
“She’ll handle him just fine.” Damian’s tone was clipped, certain.
“Didn’t say she couldn’t,” Jason said with a low chuckle, watching him a moment longer. “Truth is, she handles herself better than most of us ever did. This hurts to admit, but you two actually make a cute pair.”
Damian stilled in rinsing the plate, jaw tightening just enough for Jason’s grin to widen. “Thanks for your approval, not that I asked for it.”
Jason ignores the last part. “So, when’s the wedding? Who knew you’d be the first one to settle down?”
“Grayson is married,” Damian corrected flatly.
“Second, then,” Tim supplied smugly.
Damian said nothing, turning back to the dishes with a scoff.
“Can’t believe it took B this long to find out,” Tim laughed.
“We weren’t hiding it.”
“You wanna know how I found out?"
Damian slid the last plate onto the rack to dry, then turned, arms crossing as he waited. There was the faintest trace of amusement in his eyes. “Enlighten me.”
“Remember, that one night you came to visit during the summer? You went out on patrol, I stayed behind, told you my comms would be open if you needed backup.” Tim’s smirk widened into a grin.
Damian’s eyes narrowed. “…Yes.”
“You forgot that part.” Tim leaned in, voice deliberately slow.
“The phone call.” A twitch at Damian’s jaw. He spoke in realization. His ears warmed, pink creeping up the tips.
Jason barked a laugh. “Holy shit, Replacement.”
“How much?” Damian gritted through his teeth.
“Enough.” Tim lifted his hands in surrender. “I gave you privacy once I realized where it was heading. Then I called Dick and he confirmed it for me.”
He quickly added.
Jason leaned against the counter. “I knew the second you brought her home and introduced her as your friend.”
“We weren’t dating then,” Damian said.
“Yeah, but I knew you would be.” Jason’s grin widened. “Demon Spawn doesn’t bring anyone home. Definitely not a girl.”
Damian brought his hand up to his temple, jaw tight. He should kill them and have his dog chew on their bones.
He grunts to himself. His mind has been running miles since the start of the day.
He could feel the familiar weight of decision pressing down on him. He’s been thinking about this for months now, it's a big decision. He calculated everything, if it would even be worth it. He feels like once he says it out loud there would be no going back, which is not necessarily a bad thing. It's just a big step. There was a pregnant pause as he let the thought linger and then he shook his head.
“I’m moving back,” he said, voice steady but carrying more meaning than the words alone.
“What?” Tim’s eyes went wide, caught off guard.
“I’m moving back,” Damian repeated, slower this time. “Not right away. I would still have to find someone capable of leading the Titans, and that could take some time. But, this is something I’ve been thinking about for a long time.”
He swallowed. “And I do want to help with the company. . . so it’s time I stepped up.”
“Dami…” Tim started, but Damian cut him off with the quiet authority of someone who had made up his mind.
“Gotham also needs the better Robin.”
“Okay,” Tim said, rolling his eyes. Never mind.
“Besides, Father’s right,” Damian continued, his gaze flicking briefly toward Jason, then settling on Tim. “If I’m serious about this. . . if I’m going to be building a future with Raven, I want to do it here. In Gotham. Where we’re all together.”
“And Rae? What does she think?”
“We haven't gone into depth about it. But, I’m assuming she would want to keep working with Constantine for a while. I'll just be closer to where she is, so traveling would also be easier."
Jason let out a dramatic coo. “Aw, Dami."
“Shut the fuck up,” Damian snapped, though the corner of his mouth betrayed a twitch of a smile. And then he actually let out a chuckle.
For a moment, the kitchen fell quiet.
“It'll be nice to have you again.” Tim ruffles his hair. Damian smacked his hand away.
+
Tim let out the most obnoxious yawn as he stretched. His joints let out multiple pops and he rubbed his eyes. “Thanks for dinner, Alf. And breakfast. . . and lunch. . . and dinner. . . again.” He motioned to the large containers of food that Alfred packed up for him.
“Yeah thanks.” Jason said, shooting him a thumbs up as he put on his jacket.
Alfred inclined his head, his expression as unreadable as ever, though the faintest trace of a smile tugged at his lips. “It is my pleasure to ensure you all remain alive and fed. At least sometimes.”
Jason leaned casually against his motorcycle, stifling a yawn. “Baby bro, visit more often. We could patrol together, like the good old days.”
“You mean like when you knew he was benched but still brought him out with you,” Bruce deadpanned, arms crossed. “To defy me on purpose.”
“I don't know what you're talking about.” Jason said with a shrug, waving him off as he got on his bike.
They stepped outside, the night immediately hitting them with a crisp chill. The wind had picked up, rustling leaves across the drive and tugging at their jackets. The air smelled faintly of rain and the city’s lights shone beyond the gates. There's a certain peacefulness to the atmosphere.
Damian had grabbed one of his jackets from his old room earlier and draped it over Raven’s shoulders. It was oversized, a relic from his teenage years, back when he had been sent to that boarding school his father insisted on. Yet she curled into it, comforted by the familiar scent, her small frame folding into the warmth.
Underneath it, she clutched a pair of books in her arms, gifts from Bruce, taken from the new additions he’d proudly shown her. Her fingers tightened around the spines, gripping them as she tried not to shiver against the night air. A few strands of her dark hair had escaped their place, brushing across her face, and Damian’s gaze softened as he reached up to gently tuck them behind her ear.
Leaning closer, he draped an arm over her shoulders, pulling her gently against him. She rested her chin on his chest, seeking warmth, and let out a quiet, contented sigh. The faint scent of his jacket mixed with the cool night air, grounding her in the moment.
Damian could feel the steady rise and fall of her chest against him, the subtle relaxation of her shoulders easing into his side.
They bid their goodbyes, Jason revving his bike before tearing down the drive, and Tim slipping into his car with one last wave. The sound of engines faded into the distance.
Bruce lingered on the steps, his hands clasped behind his back. He turned toward the young pair, his expression softer. “Thank you again, for coming. Both of you.”
“Thank you for inviting us,” Raven replied.
Damian’s arm remained draped over her shoulder, protective and firm. “We should be heading out. The Titans have a rigorous training tomorrow morning,” he said, his tone even but edged with the discipline Bruce had drilled into him.
“Very well. I do hope Raven could convince you to visit more often.”
“Don’t count on it,” Damian muttered.
“I’ll try,” Raven replied at the exact same time.
The timing made Bruce’s lips twitch with the ghost of a smile. Damian shot her a sidelong look, but she only smiled, tugging his old jacket tighter around her shoulders.
“Thank you, Father. I enjoyed the meal even if it was interrupted by Neanderthals,” Damian said, his tone flat but his words carrying that familiar bite of humor.
“I’ll see you soon, son,” Bruce replied quietly.
For a moment, Damian hesitated, caught between pride and impulse. Then, surprising even himself, he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around his father. Bruce returned it without a word, his hand resting on his son’s back in silent acknowledgment.
When Damian finally pulled away, his expression was unreadable again. He turned back to Raven, who was already drawing her hands together, shadows coiling at her fingertips as the air shimmered with the beginnings of a portal.
“Let’s go.” His voice was low, casual, yet as he allowed her to step in front of him, he reached out and gave her a quick, mischievous slap on her butt.
“Damian.” She snapped his name.
+
The two of them moved in quiet coordination, brushing past one another in the small space, their shoulders occasionally bumping as they tried to share her bathroom sink.
“So, what did my father say to you?” Damian asked as he squeezed toothpaste onto his brush. A faint knot tightened in his stomach. He trusted Bruce not to interrogate, but this was still Batman.
Raven stood beside him at the sink, wiping away her eye makeup.
“When?” Her voice was muffled as she had dipped down to scrub her face with cleanser, fingertips moving in slow circles.
“When he showed you the library.” Damian began brushing his teeth.
He had already stripped out of his shirt and swapped his pants for joggers, standing barefoot at the sink. Raven, however, was still in her dress, her hair pulled back in a low ponytail.
“He threaten me to break up with you.”
Damian froze mid-brush, his heart sinking like a stone. He turned toward her, eyes sharp. “What?"
“Mm-hm,” Raven hummed, rinsing her face. “Said he’d pay me five million dollars if I did it tonight.” Her tone was light and teasing.
“Is that so?”
“Yep.” She patted her face with a towel, lips curving into a small smile. “I’m already looking at new apartments in my head. Maybe an upgrade in Metropolis. I’ll do a little shopping, maybe a new wardrobe. Gods, there’s so much to do with five million.”
She was clearly enjoying herself. Damian spat the remnants of toothpaste into the sink, passing her own toothbrush with a faint look of unimpressed disapproval.
“Kidding,” she said as she began brushing her teeth.
He leaned closer, fingers pinching her hip lightly. She let out a short, surprised giggle and jerked back with minimal effort.
“You should’ve asked for ten.”
“I was tempted.” She rinsed her mouth.
“Come here.”
Damian placed his hands firmly on her waist, guiding her closer until their foreheads touched.
“Thank you,” he murmured. “For putting up with tonight.”
“Your family?”
“Those imbeciles.” His voice was dry, but it lacked its usual bite.
“They’re a part of you.” She reached up, resting her cool hands against his bare chest. “I’ll put up with anything they throw at me. But, I’m glad we had that talk with your dad. You can tell he cares about you so much. They all do.”
“Tt.” He tried to scoff, but it softened into something closer to a sigh. Leaning down, he pressed a brief, lingering kiss against her lips. “أحبك يا حبيبتي.”
“If only your brothers knew who you truly are when it’s just the two of us.”
“I’ll never hear the fucking end of it.”
Damian pulled her closer, his thumbs drawing slow circles against the curve of her waist. One hand slid lower, slipping beneath the hem of her dress until it closed over the soft curve of her backside. He squeezed, possessive yet reverent.
“If I remember correctly,” His voice had dropped, low and deliberate, brushing against her ear. “I promised I would take this dress off you tonight.”
His gaze darkened as it swept down her figure, the satin clinging perfectly to her frame. God, those tights. He wanted to rip them apart, shred away every barrier that kept her from him.
But before he could act, Raven leaned back slightly, her hand lifting to pat his shoulder with deliberate calm.
“What are you waiting for, habibi?”
She turned and glided out of the bathroom, hips swaying with some playfulness. Damian stood frozen for only a beat before flicking off the lights and following after her without hesitation.