“You left me on read for more than ten minutes.” Damian’s voice was perfectly flat when he said it, devoid of any inflection that might suggest humor. He stared into the webcam as though daring it to argue back, arms folded tightly across his chest. The accusation hung in the air between them—half serious, half performative—but entirely Damian.

He’d met his partner only a couple of months ago, which was ridiculous when he really thought about it. Two months shouldn’t have been enough time for someone to matter like this. And yet—annoyingly, inconveniently—they did. As painfully cheesy as it sounded, they were the only person who made something in him click. Like finding the exact right USB on the first try—no flipping it over, no irritation, just… instant alignment. The comparison made him wince. Damian lifted a hand to his hair, flattening it down with unnecessary force. The webcam betrayed him cruelly; no matter what he did, it still stuck up at the sides, framing his face in a way that felt far too soft for his liking. He glared at his reflection for a moment before refocusing on the screen.

He knew, logically, that his partner didn’t live in Gotham. They’d mentioned it more than once—casually, like it wasn’t a big deal. Somewhere else. Somewhere better. Anywhere was better than Gotham, really. The city had a way of sinking its claws into people, leaving them perpetually tired and sharp-edged. Whoever they were, wherever they lived, Damian doubted they had to fall asleep to sirens or wake up to headlines soaked in violence. He still hadn’t met them in person. The thought lingered, unwelcome and persistent. How tall were they, really? Taller than him? Shorter? Did they slouch the way they claimed, or was that just another thing exaggerated through text? And their hair—was that actually the color it looked like on screen, or was it just the awful yellow glow of a bedroom lamp doing it dirty?

Damian blinked, as if he could physically clear the questions from his mind, and narrowed his eyes at the screen instead. Focus. Control. Speculation was pointless. “And I’m not being dramatic,” he added firmly, as if daring them to contradict him.