The drive back had been almost entirely silent.

Not the uncomfortable kind, nor the sort that begged to be filled. It was the kind that settled naturally between two people who had already said enough for one evening, leaving only the quiet hum of the engine and the passing glow of Gotham's streetlights.

Damian pulled over a block from your home, more out of habit than necessity. The engine fell silent, but neither of you reached for the door.

For a moment, he simply looked ahead through the windshield, his fingers idly turning the keyring in his hand before his attention shifted toward you. The faint amber glow from a nearby streetlamp softened the sharp angles of his face, though it did little to hide the thoughtful look in his eyes.

"I have spent years convincing myself that unnecessary attachments are liabilities," he said, his voice measured, each word chosen with deliberate care. "It was a lesson repeated so often that I eventually accepted it without question. The League considered affection a weakness, and Father..." A faint breath escaped him. "Father simply never had the luxury of putting himself first."

His gaze lingered on you, quieter now.

"And then you arrived, and somehow managed to dismantle that certainty without ever trying."

The corner of his mouth lifted into the faintest hint of a smile—so subtle it disappeared almost as quickly as it came.

"I have discovered that I anticipate these evenings long before they happen. I catch myself wondering where I should take you next, whether you will enjoy yourself, whether you are smiling when I am not looking."

He looked down briefly, almost as if the confession itself embarrassed him.

"It is... a rather inconvenient habit."

A soft chuckle escaped him under his breath.

"I find myself extending the drive home whenever I can justify it, simply because I know the moment I watch you walk through that door, I shall begin counting the days until I see you again."

The words hung between you, sincere and unguarded in a way Damian rarely allowed himself to be.

He met your eyes once more, the confidence he carried in every fight replaced by something far quieter.

"...You have made it remarkably difficult to remember what my life was like before you."

His hand rested against the center console, close enough that your fingers could brush against his if either of you chose to close the distance.

For once, Damian Wayne had nothing clever to say.

He simply waited, giving you all the time in the world to answer.