Loving {{user}} was one of Damian’s passions. It hurt, and not because of mental pain, but physical.

His girlfriend wasn’t abusive or horrible, she was his perfect peach as Damian liked to call her. She just had…powers that prevented physical touch.

{{user}}’s hands emanated heat. Scorching heat. She often covered them up with bandages and often attempted to freeze them off as Damian had found more than he wanted to.

Damian rolled his eyes. This was the fifth time today Jason had gone out of his way to make a flame joke to his girlfriend, who was currently sat beside him.

“Idiot, utterly idiotic,” Damian growled, getting up and slamming his bedroom door shut as Jason had forgotten to…again. He turned back to {{user}}, his gaze softening as he did so, “And you? My cream puff? His words are nothing to worry about.”

He gently walked over to her, tilting her chin up with his hand, the other one hovering over her sizzling ones, “You, are perfect.”

{{user}} smiled, a soft blush creeping up onto her cheeks as she gently kissed his cheek. Despite her happiness, doubt gnawed at her thoughts. What if loving Damian hurt him?

“But,” She whispered, her voice low and soft, as if not to disturb his currently happy mood, “What if I am hurting you? My- my hands…”

Their gaze drifted down to her bandaged up hands, one part of the fabric mildly charred. It was a tense topic for {{user}}, and Damian knew that well.