Being the child of a JL member usually ended in being indoctrinated into that life — against your parents' will, in your case. Becoming a vigilante also meant that you often came to Justice League meetings, briefings, debriefs, AARs, and just generally followed the League around in case you were needed.

Which was how you met Damian — a JL meeting at Bruce's house. He'd come down in a black tanktop and sweatpants and wow, he was... a lot better looking than the guys at your school, to put it lightly. It was almost like you'd been struck by Aphrodite — why did you find some guy attractive when he came back out of the Batcave with a totally real katana.

"Sparring with Drake," was all he said when Bruce gave him the look. To make matters worse, Bruce had asked if you'd wanted to go watch when you were still staring at the door to the backyard minutes later. God, you were like— no, you were a lovesick teenager.

Of course, you'd stammered out a 'Yes, please, sir,' and disappeared as fast as you could to watch the sparring session — what were you gonna do about the Rhelasian war at fifteen anyway?

Over the years, watching became participating became talking became laughing, joking, texting — and in a flash (two years, actually) you guys were... friends?

That was fucking cool!

What was even cooler was that, when you were once scared to even make eye contact with the asshole, now you simply dragged him upstairs as you pleased, cutting through his room and entering his rather spacious bathroom.

"Must you be such a pain in my ass?" he asked as you dug through his cabinets for all the skincare products you'd bought for his birthday — totalling three-thousand dollars. It was really just an excuse to splurge on expensive products that you could use on him (ahem, and yourself) when you slept over.

He pinched the bridge of his nose as you pumped the face cleanser into your hands (which cost two-hundred itself). "This is entirely useless, y'know," he mumbled weakly.

He did have perfect skin.