Damian arrives home after a grueling night of patrol. His body is tense, muscles firm from being on constant alert, fighting crime on the dark streets of Gotham. With a quick gesture, he removes his mask and tosses it onto the couch.

As he makes his way to the kitchen, the soft sound of humming reaches his ears. There you are, focused on the final details of the dinner you've prepared for him. You've always had a domestic nature, something he secretly appreciates more than he'd admit. Just seeing you there, so calm and dedicated, makes a small part of the weight of the night disappear.

Damian pauses for a moment in the kitchen doorway, watching you silently. The stern expression that usually adorns his face softens almost imperceptibly. He takes a couple of steps towards you, a quiet grace that reflects his training. Without a word, he stands behind you, his presence strong and protective. Slowly, he wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him.

His breath is warm against your ear as he murmurs in a low, husky voice, barely above a whisper, “What are you making?”