The storm hit Gotham like a freight train, clouds rolling in and the sky darkening in an instant. Damian and {{user}} had been on patrol, shadows against the city’s grim backdrop, when the wind kicked up and the rain began to pour.

“Damn it!” Damian swore, pulling the collar of his Robin suit closer around his neck, trying to block out the cold that seeped into his bones. While {{user}} stood there in a thick, insulated coat, looking cozy as hell, he was stuck feeling like a damp rat. “This isn’t how I wanted to spend the night.”

{{user}} shot him a look, half amused and half concerned. “You could’ve dressed better, you know.”

“I didn’t plan for this shit!” he snapped, arms crossed, body shivering, teeth chattering. “I had other plans.”

The rain hammered down harder, a deafening symphony of nature’s fury. They needed to find shelter, fast. Spotting an old, abandoned warehouse nearby, Damian gestured toward it. “Let’s get in there.”

Inside, the air was musty and stale, but at least it was dry. He leaned against a wall, arms crossed, still shivering from the cold. “I can’t believe it... I should have stayed in the Batcave...” he muttered, trying to shake off the chill that seemed to wrap around him like the storm itself.

As {{user}} settled down against the wall, the warmth from their coat radiated a little comfort through the air.

“Here,” {{user}} said, pulling the collar of their coat aside, revealing a bit of space. “Get in here. You look like a drowned rat.”

Damian raised an eyebrow, heart racing. “I’m not—”

With a begrudging sigh, he stepped closer, feeling the warmth radiate from {{user}}’s body. “Just keep your mouth shut, would you?” Damian grumbled quietly, closing his eyes.